?r     A  GENTLEMAN 
IN   PRISON 

The  Story  ot  TOKICHI  ISHII 

>>'ritten  in  Tokyo  Prison 

TRANSLATED  BY  CAROLINE  MACDONALD  AND 
WITH  A  FOREWORD  BY  JOHN  KELMAN,  D.D. 


p 


BV  4935  .183  A3  1922 
Ishii,  Tokichi,  18717-1918 
A  gentleman  in  prison 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 


TOKICHI   ISHII 

Taken  in  Tokyo  Prison 


A    GENTLEMAN 
IN    PRISON 

WITH  ^ 

THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  TOKICHI  ISHII 
WRITTEN  IN  TOKYO  PRISON 


TRANSLATED  BY 

CAROLINE  MACDONALD 


WITH   A   FOREWORD  BY 

JOHN  KELMAN,  D.D. 


NEW  ^^Sk  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1922, 
BT  GEORGE  H.  DORAN   COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO  ALL 

IN   EVERY  LAND 

WHO  HAVE  NEVER  HAD  A  CHANCE 

THIS  STORY  IS 
DEDICATED 


FOREWORD 

By  Rev.  John  Kelman,  D.D, 

It  was  on  the  Empress  of  Russia,  in  the  early  sum- 
mer of  1920,  that  a  certain  group  met.  They  were 
a  mixed  crowd,  English,  American  and  Oriental,  gath- 
ered for  ten  days  to  scatter  over  many  eastern  lands — 
Japan  and  the  further  coast  of  China,  the  Malay 
Peninsula,  the  Philippine  Islands — even  of  India,  and 
in  some  cases  eventually  Europe.  The  winds  blow 
cold  upon  that  trip  all  the  year  round,  with  a  touch 
of  the  northern  ice  in  them :  and  the  long  chain  of  the 
Aleutian  Islands,  snow-clad  volcanic  peaks,  strung 
like  beads  for  a  necklace  on  the  Arctic,  are  surely  the 
austerest  jewels  of  the  Seven  Seas.  So  the  passengers 
are  much  engaged  in  indoor  occupations,  and  meet 
in  groups  in  sheltered  places  for  employments  con- 
genial to  their  desires.  For  our  part  we  gathered 
round  a  little  woman  of  Scottish  Canadian  blood,  who 
told  us  the  strangest  story  in  all  the  world.  That 
story  is  the  present  volume. 

Miss  Caroline  IMacdonald  is  carrying  on  a  quite 
unique  work  in  the  prisons  of  Tokyo.  The  first  visitor 
I  met  in  her  home  in  Kojimachi  was  a  modest  and 
quiet-eyed  elderly  man,  who  talked  with  shrewd  intel- 
ligence upon  many  subjects;  he  had  served  twenty- 
seven  years  in  jail  for  murder.  Soon  after  him  en- 
tered Mr.  Arima,  the  Christian  governor  of  one  of 


FOREWORD 

the  great  long-sentence  prisons  in  Japan,  whose  ac- 
quaintance readers  will  make  before  long.  The  tale 
Miss  Macdonald  told  us,  of  which  this  book  is  a 
translation  from  the  Japanese,  is  indeed  one  of  the 
world's  great  stories.  There  is  in  it  something  of 
the  glamor  of  The  Arabian  Nights,  and  something 
of  the  naked  hellishness  of  Poe's  Tales  of  Mystery. 
There  is  also  the  most  realistic  vision  I  have  ever  seen 
of  Jesus  Christ  finding  one  of  the  lost.  You  see,  as 
you  read,  the  matchless  tenderness  of  His  eyes  and 
the  almighty  power  of  the  gentlest  hands  that  ever 
drew  a  lost  soul  out  of  misery  into  peace. 

For  the  title  of  the  book  I  alone  am  responsible,  and 
although  I  am  not  satisfied  with  it,  yet  on  the  whole 
it  is  the  most  expressive  that  I  could  find.  It  is  a  true 
title,  for  Ishii  was  one  of  God's  aristocrats.  Even  in 
his  unregenerate  days  one  notes  the  generous  largeness 
of  his  nature,  the  instinctive  diligence  of  his  spirit  and 
the  honorable  pride  that  finds  it  difficult  to  accept  a 
favor.  He  is  nervously  high  strung,  quick  and  pas- 
sionate, sensitive  alike  to  kindness  and  to  injury. 
Upon  this  delicate  instrument  life  plays  its  violent 
music,  handling  the  strings  harshly  and  jangling  the 
melody.  There  are  two  men  here  and  the  struggle 
between  them  is  desperate.  The  bad  man  is  bad  with 
a  vengeance,  but  the  good  man  is  entirely  and  instinc- 
tively a  gentleman,  and  able,  both  in  his  own  case  and 
that  of  others,  to  see  quite  clearly  that  the  world  must 
be  governed  and  that  the  lawless  man  has  no  real  place 
in  the  scheme  of  things.  In  our  title  there  is  also  a 
subtle  hint  of  escape.  No  true  gentleman  will  remain 
long  in  prison.  He  will  find  release,  either  within  or 
[viii] 


FOREWORD 

without  the  gates,  making  stone  walls  and  iron  bars  a 
hermitage  while  others  know  them  only  as  a  cage,  and 
in  God's  strange  way  eventually  returning  to  his  native 
freedom. 

Besides  its  main  purpose  the  book  has  other  inter- 
ests. Here  you  will  find  many  a  quaint  and  vivid 
expression  revealing  in  a  flash  the  picturesque 
chamber  of  imagery  which  is  the  mind  of  the  Japanese. 
Thus  when  Ishii  reads  the  phrase  that  brought  to  him 
salvation,  he  is  stabbed  to  the  heart  "as  if  pierced  bx  a 
five-inch  nail":  and  again,  talking  of  his  grumbling 
■over  food,  he  remarks  that  he  did  not  then  understand 
"that  one  food  is  as  good  as  another  after  it  has  gone 
three  inches  past  the  throat." 

He  is  an  inveterate  moralizer.  He  cannot  see  the 
prison  bath  or  watch  the  officers  practising  upon  a 
bicycle  without  the  suggestion  of  scriptural  emblems 
worthy  of  Bunyan  or  of  Quarles.  He  moralizes 
chiefly  at  his  own  expense,  upholding  the  authority  of 
the  state  as  against  the  rights  and  pleasures  of  the 
individual,  and  he  does  it  with  such  a  calm  and  dis- 
passionate air  of  impersonality  that  you  have  to  force 
yourself  continually  to  realize  that  he  is  writing  against 
time — a  race  with  the  gallows.  Moralizing  may  be 
dull  work,  but  not  when  it  is  done  in  successions  of 
inimitable  pictures  sketched  in  the  artistic  style  of  old 
Japan,  all  line-work,  little  filling  in,  and  no  background. 
Again  the  moralizing  wall  give  you  many  hints  for 
prison  reform,  applicable  to  other  lands  as  well  as  to 
his  own.  There  is  an  astonishing  amount  of  heart 
as  well  as  intelligence  manifest  in  the  existing  prison 
system  as  he  describes  it.  Nothing  could  be  quainter 
[ix] 


FOREWORD 

than  the  fact  that  he  has  added  to  this  book  of  death- 
bed spiritual  confessions  an  appendix  instructing 
Japanese  poHcemen  what  to  do  and  what  not  to  do  if 
they  wish  to  catch  a  runaway  criminal. 

There  is  much  here  for  the  student  of  literary  style. 
Ishii  had  actually  to  relearn  the  art  of  writing,  and  he 
had  no  time  to  learn  how  to  express  himself.  Yet  his 
very  ignorance  gives  an  unconscious  literary  touch  to 
all  he  writes.  His  broken  sentences,  his  abrupt  and 
unelaborated  periods,  give  a  singular  naivete  to  the 
whole  book.  There  is  no  after-thought,  but  only  the 
sincerity  of  the  untaught,  which  indeed  imparts  to  the 
whole  composition  that  "flavor"  which  his  friend,  the 
Judge,  commends.  The  story  is  curiously  free  from 
vanity  or  even  self -consciousness.  Indeed  the  naivete 
is  quite  incredible.  As  page  after  page  he  leads  you 
through  the  horrors  and  the  tender  beauties  of  his 
soul,  you  feel  that  you  are  listening  to  the  prattle  of 
a  child ;  but  it  is  a  child  who  has  been  in  hell  and  who 
is  now  looking  through  a  chink  opened  to  him  alone 
into  the  calm  splendors  of  the  Heavenly  City. 

Perhaps  the  most  striking  aspect  of  the  book  for 
many  readers  will  be  its  psychology.  One  can  imagine 
the  glee  with  which  Professor  William  James  would 
have  seized  upon  it  and  given  it  world-wide  fame. 
The  prison  psychology  is  especially  interesting,  and 
there  is  matter  here  for  serious  thought  for  the  re- 
fonner.  Nor  is  it  merely  a  mine  of  morbid  psychol- 
ogy disclosing  the  innermost  springs  of  motive,  and  the 
baffling  contradictions  of  impulse,  which  dwell  in  the 
heart  of  a  quite  phenomenal  criminal.  It  discloses  a 
true  psychologist,  full  of  curiosity  about  himself  and 


FOREWORD 

bewildered  by  the  masterless  passions  of  his  amazing 
soul.  At  his  worst  he  retains,  as  we  have  already  said, 
the  pride  and  honor  of  a  gentleman,  and  in  the  su- 
preme test  insists  on  dying  to  save  an  innocent  man. 
Cruel  as  a  tiger,  he  yet  responds  to  any  kindness  shown 
him  like  a  charming  little  child.  In  the  midst  of  a 
career  of  systematic  and  outrageous  vice  he  sometimes 
acts  in  a  spirit  which  many  of  the  elect  might  envy. 

I  cannot  vouch  for  his  theology  in  all  its  details; 
he  had  but  a  short  time  to  study  it.  Old  Japanese 
ideals  enter  quite  naturally,  and  astonish  the  Christian 
reader :  as  when,  in  telling  the  story  of  the  Free 
Lances,  he  takes  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that,  if  the 
priest  had  done  his  duty  and  obtained  their  pardon, 
they  would  at  once  have  committed  hara-kiri  like  hon- 
orable men.  Yet  there  is  a  grasp  of  essential  Chris- 
tianity which  must  quicken  the  faith  of  the  saints. 
Like  St.  Paul,  he  is  persuaded  that  he  is  the  chief  of 
sinners,  and  reiterates  the  conviction  that  no  man  was 
ever  so  vile  as  he.  He  believes  with  equal  vehemence 
in  his  own  redemption,  and  immortality  to  him  is  a 
surer  certainty  than  time.  So  absolute  is  this  belief 
that  we  are  startled  to  find  him  bent  on  cultivating 
his  mind  during  the  few  days  that  are  left  to  him,  in 
order  that  he  may  be  intellectually  fitted  to  take  up  the 
new  life  in  heaven  when  his  hour  shall  come.  In  his 
view  of  the  end,  there  is  all  the  exhilaration  which  we 
find  among  the  early  Christians  in  the  days  of  the 
amphitheatre.  His  condemnation  is  God's  greatest 
lienefit  to  him,  eagerly  sought  for  and  received  with 
overflowing  thankfulness. 

Most  touching  of  all  and  most  arresting  is  his  fre- 
[xi] 


FOREWORD 

quently  repeated  estimate  of  the  faith  and  character 
of  Christians.  No  Christian,  he  tells  us,  is  ever  afraid 
of  death.  Christians,  as  he  conceives  them,  are  people 
who  always  live  up  to  the  highest  principles  of  Christ, 
and  whose  thought  and  conduct  are  ever  worthy  of 
His  loftiest  ideals.  The  only  Christians  he  had  ever 
known  were  the  two  women  who  told  him  of  Jesus 
in  his  cell. 

John  Kelman. 
November  ii,  ip2i. 


[xii] 


PREFACE 

By  Caroline  Macdonald 

The  original  manuscript  of  the  story  told  hereafter, 
was  put  into  my  hands  in  the  month  of  August,  191 8, 
by  a  man  awaiting  the  execution  of  the  death  sentence 
in  Tokyo  prison.  Two  weeks  later  he  was  put  to  death. 
Following  the  advice  of  a  number  of  my  Japanese 
friends  who  read  the  manuscript,  the  story  was  pub- 
lished, almost  exactly  as  it  was  written,  and  the  first 
Japanese  edition  appeared  on  Christmas  Day,  1918. 

A  prison  official  who  had  charge  of  the  man  during 
his  imprisonment  and  up  to  the  time  of  his  death, 
afterwards  suggested  to  me  that  the  story  be  translated 
into  English,  so  that  a  tale  of  great  human  interest 
might  be  released  for  others  than  Japanese  people.  His 
reasons  for  the  request  were  illuminating.    He  said : 

"Much  is  said  nowadays  about  the  difficulties  of 
mutual  understanding  between  the  East  and  the  West. 
Ideals  are  different,  customs  are  different,  the  back- 
ground of  life  and  history  is  different,  and  we  face  an 
impasse.  Educated  people,  it  is  said,  may  approximate 
in  thought  and  outlook,  but  for  the  people  at  large  the 
case  is  hopeless.  And  while  this  is  being  said,  we  have 
had  in  this  very  prison  an  example  to  the  contrary. 
A  man,  uneducated,  steeped  in  crime,  condemned  to 
death  for  murder,  waiting  daily  for  the  unescapable 
end  to  which  his  crimes  have  brought  him,  is  touched 
[xiii] 


PREFACE 

by  one  of  another  nation,  and  a  woman  at  that,  with 
traditions  and  history  and  education  as  different  from 
his  as  night  is  from  day;  but  the  universal  message  of 
the  love  of  God  flashes  across  the  gulf  of  human 
differences  and  the  man's  soul  responds.  I  want  your 
people  also  to  know  this  story,  because  it  illustrates 
from  real  life,  and  beyond  the  shadow  of  doubting, 
the  fact  that  underneath  all  the  superficial  differences 
that  separate  us,  we  are  one  in  the  depths  of  suffering 
and  sorrow  and  sinning,  and  in  the  heights  of  love 
and  sympathy  and  God." 

If  the  story  carries  with  it  this  message  it  will  have 
done  its  work,  and  will  have  fulfilled  the  poor  fellow's 
own  pathetic  hopes  that  in  those  last  moments  before 
his  death,  he  might  accomplish  a  task  that  would  help 
someone,  when  hitherto  in  all  his  life  he  had  done 
nothing  but  hinder. 


The  case  itself  was  an  amazing  one  in  all  its  ramifica- 
tions, the  most  extraordinary  one,  it  is  said,  that  ever 
passed  through  the  Japanese  courts.  A  geisha  was 
murdered  near  Tokyo,  and  her  lover  was  charged  with 
the  murder,  and  arrested.  He  confessed  to  the  crime 
in  the  police  station,  but  at  the  public  trial,  denied  the 
charge,  alleging  that  torture  had  been  used  by  the  police 
to  extort  the  confession.  There  was  strong  circum- 
stantial evidence  against  him,  however,  for  he  was  the 
last  one  seen  with  the  girl  before  her  murder,  and  it 
was  known  that  they  had  quarrelled.  He  was  con- 
victed and  sentenced  to  be  hanged. 

Before  the  sentence  was  carried  out,  however,  a 
[xiv] 


PREFACE 

notorious  criminal,  Ishii  by  name,  was  arrested  for 
a  petty  offence  committed  in  Tokyo  and  thrown  into 
the  police  cells.  Seven  or  eight  other  men  in  the  same 
cell  were  discussing  the  underworld  of  Tokyo,  and  they 
mentioned  that  a  certain  man  had  been  convicted  of 
the  murder  of  a  geisha  called  Oharu  and  condenmed  to 
death.  Upon  hearing  this,  Ishii  confessed  that  it  was 
he  and  not  the  man  already  condemned  who  had  com- 
mitted the  crime.  The  confession  created  a  great 
sensation.  The  other  man  was  let  out  on  parole  and 
a  new  trial  instituted.  The  court  failed  to  find  the 
slightest  circumstantial  evidence,  however,  to  connect 
Ishii  with  the  crime,  and  acquitted  him  in  spite  of  his 
confession.  The  man  himself  protested  against  the 
acquittal,  the  public  procurator  appealed  against  the 
verdict,  and  the  case  was  reopened  in  the  appeal  court. 

The  trial  dragged  on  in  the  courts  and  gained  great 
notoriety.  Newspapers  were  filled  with  the  details  of 
its  extraordinary  ramifications.  A  man  confesses  to 
a  crime,  later  denies  it,  but  is  sentenced  to  death  on 
circumstantial  evidence.  Another  man  appears,  con- 
fesses to  the  same  crime,  but  is  acquitted  despite  his 
confession.  During  the  appeal  trial,  however,  evidence 
was  adduced  which  confirmed  Ishii's  confession  to  its 
minutest  detail,  and  he  was  sentenced  to  death.  As  he 
says  himself  in  his  writing,  he  was  thus  able  to  make 
some  amends  for  his  sins  and  at  the  same  time  to  save 
an  innocent  man  from  death. 

He  was  a  man  forty-seven  years  of  age,  with  prac- 
tically no  education,  but  with  a  remarkably  clear  mind. 
He  had  lived  a  life  of  crime,  as  his  own  story  will  tell, 
but  marked  as  he  was  by  the  ravages  of  sin,  his  eye  was 

[XV] 


PREFACE 

clear  and  his  purpose  steady  during  his  trial.  I  saw 
him  often  during  those  days,  and  on  the  morning  after 
the  death  sentence  had  been  given,  he  said  to  me  very 
quietly,  "It  was  God's  own  judgment  and  I  am  satis- 
fied." 

During  the  days  of  waiting  he  took  up  his  pen  to 
write  down  the  circumstances  which  led  him  into  crime, 
and  the  story  of  his  repentance.  He  worked  night  and 
day  until  his  task  was  finished,  for  he  did  not  know 
when  the  end  might  come.  I  saw  him  for  the  last  time 
just  a  few  days  before  his  execution  and  his  face  was 
radiant;  but  of  that  day  and  of  the  end  I  shall  write 
when  the  man  has  told  his  own  story.  The  sequel  is 
merely  the  translation  of  the  manuscript  I  received 
from  him  through  the  prison  authorities,  and  is  re- 
produced, as  far  as  possible,  with  the  same  straightfor- 
ward simplicity  as  the  original.  I  have  not  hesitated 
to  depart  on  occasions  from  the  literal  translation,  but 
I  think  I  have  not  departed  from  the  spirit. 

Caroline  Macdonald. 
Tokyo, 
August  II,  1^20, 


[xvi] 


NOTE 

Mr.  Fujiya  Suzuki,  M.P.,  the  lawyer  Ishii  speaks  of 
so  affectionately  in  his  story,  has  contributed  an  in- 
teresting preface  to  the  Japanese  edition.  A  rough 
translation  is  here  given. 

When  I  read  Ishii's  story  I  could  not  but  recall 
Victor  Hugo's  story,  "Les  Miserables."  Jean  Valjean 
at  the  age  of  twenty-five  was  put  in  prison  for  five 
years  for  a  petty  crime,  but  through  successive  at- 
tempts to  escape,  his  imprisonment  dragged  on  for 
nineteen  years.  When  he  was  released  he  went  to  the 
home  of  Bishop  Myriel  and  in  spite  of  the  Bishop's 
kindness  stole  his  silver  plate.  The  forgiveness  of  the 
Bishop  melted  his  heart,  and  the  words,  "I  have  bought 
your  soul  of  you,"  made  him  a  new  man. 

This  shows  the  influence  of  character. 

Now  Ishii  was  a  far  worse  man  than  Valjean  ever 
was.  Stealing,  burglary,  prison  breaking,  murder, — 
all  these  crimes  he  had  to  his  credit.  He  was  in  prison 
more  than  ten  times  and  for  more  than  twenty  years. 
He  was  indeed,  as  has  been  said,  an  unequalled,  incom- 
parable scoundrel.  But  this  man,  through  the  influence 
of  Miss  Macdonald,  suddenly  softened,  as  the  snow 
melts  in  the  morning  sun,  repented  of  his  crimes  and 
became  a  changed  man. 

This  also  is  the  influence  of  character, 
[xvii] 


NOTE 

If  anyone  praises  the  virtues  of  the  Bishop,  he  must 
surely  also  praise  the  virtues  of  Miss  Macdonald.  The 
Bishop  Myriel  was  an  old  man,  Miss  Macdonald  was 
a  frail  woman. 

Ishii  was  a  far  more  dangerous  villain  than  Jean 
Valjean  ever  was,  so  it  may  be  said  that  the  power  of 
Miss  Macdonald's  influence  was  much  greater  than  the 
Bishop's. 

"Les  Miserables"  is  a  novel.  Bishop  Myriel  is  in  all 
probability  a  mere  figment  of  the  author's  brain. 
Ishii's  story  is  true  and  Miss  Macdonald  is  by  no  means 
a  creation  of  the  imagination. 

The  time  came  when  Valjean  voluntarily  gave  him- 
self up  to  the  Arras  court  in  order  to  save  another  man. 
"This  man  is  not  Valjean.  I  am  the  real  Valjean." 
Ishii  also  on  his  own  initiative  gave  himself  up  to  the 
court  and  saved  Komori,  who  was  already  as  good  as 
nine-tenths'  dead,  "Komori  is  not  the  criminal,"  he 
said,  "I  am  the  real  murderer." 

If  we  say  that  Valjean  was  a  good  man,  I  do  not 
think  it  is  going  too  far  to  call  Ishii  a  saint. 

The  Arras  court  thought  Valjean  was  mad  when  he 
made  his  confession,  and  in  Ishii's  case  also  the  court 
was  mistaken,  and  in  the  first  trial  acquitted  him  in 
spite  of  his  confession  and  in  opposition  to  his  desires. 
Sometimes  we  speak  of  unappreciated  favors,  and  this 
was  surely  one  in  reality. 

As  the  Arras  court  was  saved  on  the  verge  of  a  very 
serious  blunder,  so  the  courts  of  Japan,  carried  on  as 
they  are  in  the  name  of  His  Imperial  Majesty,  barely 
escaped  making  a  very  great  error,  which  would  have 
compromised  seriously  their  whole  jurisdiction, 
[xviii] 


NOTE 

Although  Jean  Valjean  suffered  much,  he  was  com- 
forted by  the  kind  ministrations  of  the  warm-hearted 
Cosette  and  he  died  in  comfort.  Ishii  died  on  the 
gallows. 

Both  men  repented  under  similar  circumstances,  but 
their  manner  of  death  was  very  different.  I  wonder 
if  there  can  be  some  hidden  significance  in  it  all. 

Ishii  is  dead  but  his  spirit  will  live  on  through  this 
little  book. 


[xixT 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

FOREWORD   BY   REV.  JOHN   KELMAN,   D.D.      .       .  vii 

PREFACE    BY    CAROLINE   MACDONALD       ,       ,       .  xiii 

NOTE  BY  MR.  FUJIYA  SUZUKI,  M.P xvii 

PART  ONE:    CONFESSIONS 

I    MOTIVE  IN  WRITING 39 

II     MY  FAMILY  AND  UPBRINGING 30 

III  GAMBLING 33 

IV  MY  WRONGDOING  INCREASES 3S 

V    PRISON           36 

VI    ESCAPE  FROM   PRISON 38 

VII    IN  THE  CLUTCHES  OF  THE  POLICE  AGAIN     .       .  40 

VIII    ELEVEN  YEARS  IN  PRISON 42 

IX    FROM    BAD    TO    WORSE 44 

X    A   CHRISTIAN   OFFICIAL 45 

XI    A   LETTER   FROM    A    CHILD 47 

XII    A   LETTER  FROM   AN   ACCOMPLICE      ....  50 

XIU     MY   MONEY   STOLEN Sa 

XIV    I  FIND  MY  WIFE S3 

XV    I    GO  TO  KOMPIRA  SHRINE 54 

XVI    THE  MURDER  OF  OHARU,  THE  GEISHA     ...  58 

XVII    THE    YOKOHAMA    MURDER 60 

XVIII    I  STEAL  WEAPONS  TO  COMMIT  FURTHER  CRIMES  63 

XIX    FLIGHT    TO    OSAKA 65 

XX     FIRST  CRIME  IN  TOKYO 67 

fxxi] 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XXI    CONFESSION  OF  OHARU'S  MURDER     ....  69 

XXII    MEMORIES   AND   REFLECTIONS 71 

XXIII  AFTER   DEATH? 73 

XXIV  A  NEW  YEAR'S  GIFT  IN  PRISON 73 

XXV    A   VISIT   FROM   MISS   WEST 76 

XXVI    FIRST   IMPRESSIONS 77 

XXVII    "FATHER,  FORGIVE  THEM!" 79 

XXVIII     GIFTS   OF  THE  PRISON   HOUSE 81 

XXIX    CRUCIFIXION 83 

XXX    THE   OHARU   TRIAL 86 

XXXI    PRISON   CHAPLAINS 87 

XXXII    HAUNTED 89 

XXXIII  THE  DIFFERENCES  BETWEEN  MEN     ....  91 

XXXIV  MY  HYMN 94 

XXXV    WHY  THE  POLICE  DO  NOT  CATCH  CRIMINALS     .  98 

PART  TWO:    A  DIARY  OF  IMPRESSIONS 

I    THANKSGIVING    FOR    ILLNESS 103 

n    THE  KINDNESS  OF  A  JAILOR 104 

III  MERCIES 106 

IV  CONCERNING   LAWYERS 107 

V    LESSONS   LEARNED   FROM   SUFFERING      ...  109 

VI    A    SPARROW    TEACHES   A    LESSON       .       .       .       .  no 

VII    THE  STORY  OF  THE  MINER iia 

VIII    THE  TRUE  HEART  OF  A  CHILD 113 

IX    THOSE  TWO  FRIENDS  OF  MINE 114 

X    PARADOXES 116 

XI    BICYCLES 119 

XII    THE  HAUNTED  WELL 121 

XIU    ABOUT  REPENTANCE 124 

[xxii] 


CONTENTS 

PACE 

XIV    THE  FORTY-SEVEN   LOYAL  FREE  LANCES      .       .  126 

XV    THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 133 

XVI     EARTHQUAKES 134 

XVII    A  TALK   WITH  JAILORS  AND  POLICEMEN      .       .  137 

XVIII     THE    PRISON    BATH 141 

XIX    ABOUT  JUDGES 143 

XX    RECOLLECTIONS 144 

XXI    THE   KINDNESS   OF   OFFICIALS 146 

XXII    THE  PITIFUL  LITTLE  ANTS 148 

XXIII  THE   WRITINGS    OF   AN    UNEDUCATED    MAN       .  149 

XXIV  "THY  STAFF  IT  COMFORTS  ME" 151 

XXV    THE    HEART   OF   A    CHRISTIAN 15a 

XXVI    A  JUDGE  AND  A  CHIEF  WARDER ,57 

NOTES    TAKEN   FROM   CAROLINE    MACDONALD'S 

JOURNAL          ,5, 


[xxiii] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


TOKICHI  ISHII Frcyntispiece 

TAGS 

MR.    SHIROSUKE   ARIMA 92 

MR.   FUJIYA   SUZUKI,   M.P 108 

MR.  KEISHO  FUJII i44 

THE  GRAVE  OF  TOKICHI   ISHII 161 

REVERSE    SIDE    OF    MARKER    OVER    GRAVE    OF    TOKICHI 

ISHII «6i 


PART  ONE:    CONFESSIONS 


A  GENTLEMAN 
IN   PRISON 

I. 

MOTIVE    IN    WRITING. 

I  wish  to  tell  how  my  heart  was  changed  through  the 
power  of  Jesus  Christ.  But  first  of  all  I  must  make  an 
explanation.  When  I  was  a  child  my  parents  were 
poor  and  I  attended  school  for  only  two  years.  Since 
that  time,  which  is  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  I  have 
scarcely  had  a  pen  in  my  hand,  until  I  take  it  up  now 
to  write  this  story  of  my  life.  It  is  impossible  for  an 
ignorant  fellow  like  myself  to  write  in  any  but  the 
simplest  way;  so  I  shall  only  attempt  to  set  down 
simply  and  truthfully  the  things  that  happened  to  me 
from  my  childhood  up  to  the  present  time,  and  to  tell 
how  I  came  to  believe  in  the  great  unmeasureable 
power  and  deep  mercy  of  Christ,  after  I  got  into 
prison.  In  order  to  do  this,  I  shall  have  to  expose 
my  shame  and  confess  without  reserve  all  my  wicked- 
ness. But  I  shall  be  content  if  in  the  future  some 
villain  like  myself  shall  be  helped  by  the  story  of  how 
I  was  saved  through  God's  leading  and  the  efforts  of 
Miss  West  and  Miss  Macdonald,  the  two  ladies  who 
visited  me  in  prison. 

[29] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
II. 

MY  FAMILY  AND  UPBRINGING. 

At  one  time  my  father  was  purveyor  to  the  feudal 
lord  of  Hikone,  but  he  was  a  very  heavy  drinker,  and 
often  drank  more  than  two  quarts  of  sake  a  day.  He 
finally  failed  in  business,  left  Hikone  and  moved  with 
his  family  to  Nagoya.  My  mother  was  the  daughter  of 
a  Shinto  priest  at  the  Atsuta  shrine  at  Nagoya.*  I  was 
the  youngest  of  three  children,  but  the  other  two  died 
when  I  was  quite  young. 

We  lived  very  comfortably  until  I  was  four  or  five 
years  old,  but  by  that  time  my  father  had  squandered 
everything  on  drink,  and  my  mother  was  greatly  dis- 
tressed over  household  matters.  She  was  devoted  to 
me  and  often  went  without  the  necessities  of  life  her- 
self in  order  to  provide  for  me,  her  only  child. 

When  I  was  ten  years  of  age  I  left  school  and  my 
mother  told  me  of  her  troubles.  "I  do  not  know  what 
to  do  about  your  father,"  she  said,  "and  I  want  you  to 
help  me.  When  he  leaves  home  in  the  morning  you 
must  follow  him  wherever  he  goes  and  keep  him  from 
drinking."  I  did  as  she  told  me.  Little  ten-year-old 
child  that  I  was,  I  followed  my  father  about,  and 
would  pluck  at  his  sleeve  when  he  was  passing  a  saloon. 
"Do  come  home  with  me,"  I  would  beg,  "Mother  is 
so  worried  about  you."  My  efforts  were  usually  in 
vain,  and  he  was  often  picked  out  of  the  gutter  and 

*  The  shrine  where  the  sword,  one  of  the  three  ancient  imperial  treasures, 
is    kept. 

[30] 


MY  FAMILY  AND  UPBRINGING 

brought  home  by  the  neighbors  long  after  midnight. 
My  mother  was  very  proud  and  felt  keenly  the  family 
disgrace.  Things  went  from  bad  to  worse  and  for 
more  than  a  year  we  were  in  very  great  distress. 

Then  another  misfortune  befell  the  family.  My 
mother  was  taken  ill  with  a  very  bad  fever  when  I  was 
just  eleven  years  old.  My  father  took  us  both  to  the 
house  of  an  aunt  and  then  disappeared,  and  left  us  to 
shift  for  ourselves.  My  aunt  was  very  poor  and  my 
mother  was  worried  beyond  words  at  being  deserted 
in  this  way.  We  could  not  even  afford  to  have  a  doctor 
for  her. 

Just  at  this  time  an  epidemic  of  cholera  broke  out 
and  the  police  were  taking  every  precaution  possible 
where  fever  patients  were  concerned.  Because  of  this, 
however,  rich  and  poor  alike  were  trying  to  hide  their 
sick  folks  from  the  police,  for  it  was  thought  that  the 
patients  who  were  taken  to  the  isolation  hospital  were 
dosed  with  a  very  strong  drug  that  killed  them  off  at 
once.  In  my  childish  heart  I  was  afraid  that  my  mother 
also  would  be  taken  to  the  fatal  hospital,  and  I  felt 
that  somehow  or  other  I  must  get  her  cured  myself. 
You  can  imagine  my  delight  when  a  neighbour  told  me 
one  day  of  a  concoction  made  by  boiling  earthworms 
that  would  surely  cure  Mother  if  she  drank  it. 

As  my  aunt  was  very  poor  I  had  to  do  something 
to  help  to  support  the  family,  even  though  I  was  only 
eleven  years  of  age.  So  I  shouldered  a  pole  with 
buckets  attached  to  each  end,  walked  two  or  three  miles 
into  the  country,  bought  some  sawdust  (which  we 
burn  for  a  mosquito  smudge),  filled  my  buckets  with 
it,  trudged  back  and  peddled  the  stuff  from  house  to 
[31] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

house.  With  what  little  money  I  got  I  helped  to  keep 
the  family  and  buy  medicine  for  Mother.  I  won  the 
reputation  amongst  the  neighbours  of  being  a  very  filial 
child.  My  mother  finally  got  well,  and  that  without 
having  been  seen  even  once  by  a  doctor. 


[32] 


GAMBLING 

III. 

GAMBLING 

A  little  later  my  father  returned  and  the  three  of 
us  began  life  together  again.  Unfortunately  everyone 
gambled  in  the  neighbourhood  where  we  lived,  even 
children  not  more  than  twelve  or  thirteen  years  of 
age.  Up  to  this  time  I  had  never  been  known  to  do 
a  mischievous  thing,  but  it  was  easy  to  learn  bad  ways 
in  that  neighbourhood  and  I  was  soon  gambling  with 
the  rest  of  them.  I  then  began  to  need  money:  the 
little  my  parents  gave  me  was  not  enough,  and  I  began 
to  steal. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  my  life  of  crime.  As  I 
look  back  now  I  realise  keenly  how  easily  a  child  is 
influenced  by  bad  friends  and  surroundings. 

My  parents  soon  discovered  my  wrongdoing,  and 
thinking  it  was  no  longer  good  for  me  to  be  at  home, 
they  hired  me  out  to  a  chinaware  manufacturer  in  a 
place  called  Seto,  about  fifteen  miles  from  Nagoya. 
I  could  not  stand  the  restrictions  of  a  strange  house, 
however,  for  I  had  always  had  my  own  way  at  home, 
so  I  ran  away  and  found  other  work.  I  got  dissatis- 
fied again  and  at  last  returned  home.  I  tried  one  place 
after  another  but  did  not  stick  to  anything.  My  parents 
were  helpless  and  let  me  do  as  I  pleased. 

I  finally  began  to  wander  about  peddling  chinaware, 
and  spent  the  money  I  made  in  gambling.    For  a  time 
I  was  very  lucky,  but  gradually  I  used  up  all  my  money 
and  found  myself  in  a  sorry  plight. 
[33] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

The  advice  of  my  parents  and  friends  made  no  more 
impression  on  me  than  the  wind  blowing  in  a  horse's 
ear,  and  I  went  on  caring  only  for  the  excitement  of 
the  moment.  I  began  to  drink,  to  quarrel  with  my  com- 
panions, and  to  frequent  houses  of  ill-fame.  I  became 
utterly  useless  for  anything  and  finally  gave  up  all 
attempts  to  earn  an  honest  living. 


[34] 


MY  WRONGDOING  INCREASES 
IV. 

MY    WRONGDOING    INCREASES. 

Just  at  this  time  a  great  earthquake  swept  over 
Gifu  and  Aichi  prefectures,  and  after  it  was  over  the 
lumber  merchants  were  very  busy  selling  timber  to 
repair  the  damage.  I  set  out  to  get  a  job  and  found 
work  at  a  large  well-known  firm.  Every  day  customers 
came  in  large  numbers  to  do  business  and  the  amount 
of  material  handled  was  v^ry  great.  I  sized  up  the 
timber  on  hand,  consulted  with  a  pal  I  had  picked  up, 
and  got  away  with  considerable  quantities  without  its 
being  noticed.  We  squandered  the  money  on  prosti- 
tutes, drink  and  gambling.  At  first  we  stole  only  a 
little  at  a  time,  but  gradually  got  more  daring,  think- 
ing we  would  never  be  found  out.  At  last  we  made 
away  with  several  hundred  yens'  worth  of  stuff  at  one 
time,  but  the  fates  were  against  us  and  we  were  caught. 
Our  master  dismissed  us,  but  was  lenient  and  did  not 
notify  the  police.  It  would  have  been  well  had  I 
learned  my  lesson  then,  but  instead,  my  companion  and 
I  continued  in  our  evil  ways. 

I  was  subsequently  caught,  however,  and  found  my- 
self in  the  police  station  for  the  first  time  in  my  life. 
I  was  scared  to  death.  I  was  alone  in  my  cell  the  first 
night  and  that  frightened  me  still  more.  I  was  rest- 
less and  did  not  sleep  a  wink  the  whole  night.  I  kept 
praying,  "O  God,  please  send  me  back  home  again." 
(This  God  was  not  Christ;  I  did  not  know  Christ 
then.)  I  whispered  to  myself  that  if  God  would  only 
let  me  go  back  home  I  would  never  do  wrong  again. 
[35] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
V. 

PRISON. 

My  prayer  was  not  answered,  for  T  was  sent  to 
prison  to  await  my  trial.  While  awaiting  trial,  first 
offenders  and  others  are  put  together  in  the  same  cells 
and  have  a  chance  to  talk  to  one  another.  One  fellow 
who  had  been  in  prison  before,  said  to  me,  "Don't 
worry  about  a  petty  little  crime  like  yours ;  cheer  up !" 
Under  such  encouragement  I  soon  forgot  all  about  the 
terrors  of  the  police  station.  I  was  just  nineteen  years 
of  age  at  this  time. 

I  want  to  tell  you  some  of  my  thoughts  during  this 
first  prison  experience.  Up  to  this  time  I  had  thought 
that  a  prison  must  be  a  fearful  place,  but  now  that  I 
was  in,  I  found  that  the  reality  was  much  less  dreadful 
than  I  had  supposed ;  and  there  seemed,  after  all,  to  be 
nothing  to  worry  over.  The  officials  were  very  lenient 
to  first  offenders  and  I  felt  no  special  discomfort.  The 
fear  of  prison  was  taken  away,  and  this  accounts  for 
my  subsequent  downfalls.  Had  I  been  a  man  of  educa- 
tion I  might  have  appreciated  the  leniency  of  the  offi- 
cials towards  me,  but  being  an  ignorant  fellow,  I 
merely  thought  a  prison  was  not  so  bad  a  place  after  all. 

One  must  remember  another  thing.  Wherever  your 
eye  turns  in  prison,  whether  to  the  right  or  to  the  left, 
you  see  nothing  but  the  brick-coloured  uniforms  of  the 
inmates  and  you  have  no  special  feeling  of  shame  when 
all  are  alike  in  the  same  condition.  Men  in  prison  are  a 
community  of  knaves,  and  have  no  need  to  stand  on 
[36] 


PRISON 

ceremony  with  one  another,  nor  feel  apologetic  among 
those  around  them.  Rather  do  we  openly  discuss 
among  ourselves  what  we  shall  do  when  we  get  out, 
and  arrange  to  commit  crime  together.  The  fact  of 
the  matter  is  that  a  prison  is  simply  a  school  for  learn- 
ing crime.  We  are  not  supposed  to  talk  among  our- 
selves, but  rules  are  not  very  strictly  enforced  with  first 
offenders,  and  the  result  is  that  foundations  are  often 
laid  for  future  crime  while  a  man  is  awaiting  trial  for 
his  first  offence.  We  come  to  look  on  crime  as  our 
business,  and  so  long  as  we  get  all  we  want  for  our- 
selves, we  do  not  care  how  other  people  suffer.  This  is 
a  terrible  state  of  mind  to  reach,  for  one  goes  on  from 
crime  to  crime,  until,  as  in  my  own  case,  some  awful 
deed  is  committed. 

I  think  that  special  attention  should  be  given  to  the 
care  of  first  offenders.  If  they  do  not  repent,  the 
result  is  a  villain  like  myself,  vicious  to  the  core,  with 
crimes  that  cannot  be  blotted  out. 


[37] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

VI. 

ESCAPE    FROM    PRISON. 

By  the  time  I  had  been  four  times  in  prison  I  was 
already  a  confirmed  criminal.  In  a  prison  community 
our  claim  to  distinction  is  according  to  the  extent  of 
our  crimes.  The  greater  the  crime  the  greater  the 
honour,  and  men  brag  openly  of  the  depredations  they 
have  committed.  If  a  new  man  appears  who  has  com- 
mitted only  a  petty  crime  he  has  no  standing  whatever 
in  the  prison  community.  Under  such  influence  I  de- 
termined early  in  my  career  to  commit  a  really  big 
crime,  and  qualify  for  distinction  in  prison  society. 

With  these  thoughts  in  mind,  it  was  not  to  be  ex- 
pected that  I  should  settle  down  to  work  out  the  four 
years  that  were  now  ahead  of  me.  I  began  to  lay 
plans  for  escaping.  I  managed  to  improvise  a  cover- 
ing out  of  some  oilcloth  I  had  gotten  from  an  accom- 
plice in  the  tailoring  department,  and  one  rainy  day 
I  wrapped  it  about  me  and  escaped  through  an  emer- 
gency exit. 

Almost  immediately  I  committed  a  theft,  and  with 
the  money  I  stole,  made  my  way  to  Tokyo,  went  to  a 
friend's  house,  and  loafed  around  for  about  a  week. 
I  then  rented  a  house  in  Oshiage  in  Hon  jo  ward  and 
set  up  a  small  hardware  shop.  One  day  I  was  arrested 
on  suspicion,  as  I  could  not  explain  why  I  had  so  much 
money  in  my  possession  when  my  business  did  not  seem 
to  warrant  it,  and  I  was  detained  for  ten  days  in  the 
police  station  on  the  charge  of  using  an  assumed  name. 
[38] 


ESCAPE  FROM  PRISON 

I  finally  said  I  had  got  the  money  by  gambling,  and  I 
was  not  questioned  further  when  the  ten  days  were 
up.  This  experience  taught  me  to  be  suspicious  of  all 
the  people  who  came  to  the  shop,  as  I  thought  they 
might  be  detectives  or  policemen.  I  became  so  worried 
that  I  could  not  sleep  at  night. 


[39] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PHISON 
VII. 

IN    THE    CLUTCHES    OF    THE    POLICE    AGAIN. 

This  State  of  things  could  not  last  forever,  and 
within  three  months  I  was  in  the  police  station  again. 
That  first  night  in  the  police  cells  I  slept  as  I  had  not 
slept  since  I  escaped  from  prison.  What  I  had  dreaded 
had  come  to  pass ;  my  terror  was  gone  and  I  was  free 
from  care. 

I  got  five  months  in  prison  and  should  have  known 
enough  by  this  time  to  have  behaved  myself,  but 
about  forty  days  before  my  time  was  up  I  had  a  fight 
with  one  of  the  inmates  and  six  months  were  added 
to  my  sentence.  During  this  time  my  father  died  and 
my  old  mother  was  left  alone.  Well  did  I  know  that 
she  was  awaiting  the  return  of  her  wayward  son, 
counting  oflF  the  days  on  her  fingers  until  I  should 
come  back  to  her  repentant,  and  yet  I  cared  nothing 
for  her  suffering,  and  continued  in  my  wrongdoing. 
Surely  there  was  never  a  more  ungrateful  son  than  I! 

When  I  came  out  I  was  just  twenty-nine  years  of 
age.  I  returned  home,  and  later,  without  consulting 
my  mother,  ransomed  a  prostitute  and  made  her  my 
wife.  I  straightened  up,  however,  and  started  watch- 
making, a  trade  I  had  learned  in  prison;  and  my 
mother,  my  wife  and  I  lived  together  happily  for  nearly 
three  years,  although  we  had  very  little  to  live  on. 
During  my  days  of  wrongdoing  I  had  never  known 
what  true  happiness  meant,  even  when  I  had  plenty  to 
[40] 


IN  THE  CLUTCHES  OF  THE  POLICE  AGAIN 

eat  and  drink,  because  there  was  no  real  peace  in  my 
heart. 

All  went  well  for  a  time,  until  one  day  a  man  I  had 
known  in  prison  came  to  see  me,  and  by  way  of  cele- 
brating the  occasion  we  took  a  drink  together  and  then 
another,  and  another,  until  finally  the  lure*  of  the  old 
life  returned  upon  me  and  I  started  in  on  a  course  of 
crime  again.  My  wife  discovered  what  was  going  on 
and  advised  me  to  get  away  from  Nagoya  and  move 
to  Tokyo.  At  this  time  my  mother  was  seventy-two 
years  of  age.  I  took  my  wife's  advice,  moved  up  to 
Tokyo  with  my  family  and  rented  a  small  house  in  Asa- 
kusa  ward.  This  was  in  April,  1902.  My  wife  began 
selling  small  wares,  and  I  wandered  about  looking  for 
work.  I  finally  opened  a  bakeshop  in  Iriyamachi  in 
Shitaya  ward,  but  I  knew  nothing  of  the  business  and 
soon  failed.  Then  one  day  I  met  an  old  pal  in  Asakusa 
ward  and  fell  into  temptation  once  more.  Had  I  been 
really  repentant  I  need  not  have  fallen  again,  but  the 
temptation  came  just  when  I  had  failed  in  business  and 
was  discouraged.  Of  course  my  repentance  was  only 
superficial. 

•Literally:    "Rust  appeared  on  the  iron  again." 


[41] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

VIII. 

ELEVEN   YEARS   IN    PRISON 

I  now  abandoned  my  wife  and  aged  mother,  com- 
mitted a  burglary,  was  caught  and  sent  to  prison  for 
eleven  years.  As  I  had  given  a  false  name,  my  fam- 
ily had  no  way  of  tracing  my  whereabouts.  What  dis- 
tress they  must  have  endured  on  my  account!  I  have 
no  words  to  express  the  enormity  of  my  unfilial  con- 
duct. I  learned  long  afterwards,  when  I  returned  from 
prison,  that  my  wife  and  mother  went  back  to  their 
old  home  in  Nagoya,  where  my  mother  shortly  after- 
wards died  brokenhearted  on  account  of  her  wayward 
son.  This  prison  where  I  spent  eleven  years  was  in 
Chiba,  a  province  bordering  on  Tokyo. 

I  wish  to  say  something  about  my  prison  life  during 
these  years.  I  was  not  at  all  repentant,  and  determined 
to  break  prison  and  escape.  After  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  I  got  hold  of  a  nail  about  an  inch  and  a  half 
long,  sharpened  it  on  the  edge  of  a  piece  of  earthenware, 
and  made  a  gimlet  with  three  turns  in  it.  After  twenty 
days'  work  I  managed  to  bore  a  hole  with  it  and  break 
a  lock.  Three  of  us  had  planned  to  escape  together,  but 
the  first  to  start  out  was  caught  by  an  official  and  our 
attempt  came  to  nothing.  This  should  have  taught  me 
a  lesson,  but  instead  I  kept  racking  my  brains  to  find 
some  other  means  of  escape.  At  last  I  succeeded  in 
making  a  saw  about  three  inches  and  a  half  long, 
smuggled  it  into  my  cell,  and  began  to  cut  the  bars  of 
my  window.  When  I  had  got  the  bars  almost  sawn 
[42] 


ELEVEN  YEARS  IN  PRISON 

through,  the  plot  was  discovered  and  I  was  severely 
punished.  I  was  hand-cuffed,  my  feet  were  chained 
together,  and  I  was  kept  in  that  condition  day  and 
night  for  some  time.  This  cruel  treatment  was,  how- 
ever, no  more  than  I  deserved. 

When  I  had  tried  to  escape  six  months  before,  the 
officials  had  been  very  lenient  with  me,  so  I  had  only 
myself  to  blame  for  the  severe  treatment  I  received 
this  time.  Had  I  been  an  ordinary  mortal  I  should 
surely  have  repented  and  apologised  to  the  officials,  but 
I  only  got  more  desperate  and  paid  no  attention  to  any- 
thing that  was  said  to  me.  I  was  being  constantly 
punished  for  breaking  rules.  I  thought  all  restraint 
was  cruelty  and  was  filled  with  hate  against  everyone. 
I  could  not  even  live  in  peace  with  the  other  inmates, 
but  quarrelled  and  fought  with  them.  Finally  I  was 
put  into  solitary  confinement. 


[43] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
IX. 

FROM  BAD  TO  WORSE. 

My  solitary  confinement  had  the  effect  of  making 
me  still  more  stubborn  and  unmanageable.  I  cursed  my 
jailors,  fought  with  them,  smashed  the  furniture  in  my 
cell,  and  altogether  acted  like  a  madman.  I  was  spoken 
of  by  the  officials  as  an  amazing  scoundrel.  One  day 
I  complained  because  I  was  being  watched  constantly. 
As  I  think  of  this  today  I  realise  how  unreasonable  it 
was  to  grumble  about  this,  when  I  was  constantly  de- 
ceiving the  officials  and  breaking  rules.  Needless  to 
say,  I  was  being  punished  all  the  time.  Out  of  my 
eleven  years'  imprisonment  I  was  at  least  half  the  time 
in  solitary  confinement,  and  I  do  not  remember  how 
many  times  I  was  punished  otherwise. 

The  most  severe  form  of  punishment  I  endured,  how- 
ever, was  to  be  deprived  for  ten  days  at  a  stretch,  of 
the  privilege  of  working.  I  was  put  into  a  cell  all  by 
myself,  was  not  let  out  even  for  exercise,  nor  permitted 
to  read  nor  to  leave  the  cell  day  or  night.  Then  be- 
sides all  this  I  was  not  allowed  to  do  any  work.  To  any- 
one who  has  never  gone  through  such  an  experience  it 
may  seem  strange  to  think  of  enforced  idleness  as  a 
punishment ;  but  it  is  a  fearful  experience  to  be  obliged 
to  sit  still  for  ten  long  days  at  a  stretch  without  doing 
anything  whatever.  While  working,  the  mind  is  active 
and  one  does  not  notice  suffering.  I  was  otherwise 
punished  by  being  put  on  short  rations  and  kept  in  a 
dark  room,  but  these  forms  of  punishment  I  did  not 
mind  at  all. 

[44] 


A  CHRISTIAN  OFFICIAL 


A    CHRISTIAN    OFFICIAL 

One  day  when  I  had  been  in  prison  about  seven  years 
I  got  angry  with  an  official  for  reprimanding  me,  and 
attacked  him.  For  this  I  was  gagged,  my  hands  bound 
tightly  behind  me,  and  my  body  suspended  so  that  my 
toes  barely  reached  the  ground.  Through  all  this  I 
remained  stubborn  and  refused  to  say  I  was  sorry  for 
what  I  had  done.  Shall  I  call  this  just  pure  stubborn- 
ness, or  was  I  an  exceptionally  hardened  fellow? 

During  this  period,  which  was  about  1911,  the  vice- 
governor  of  the  prison  was  said  to  be  a  Christian  and 
had  the  reputation  of  being  very  kind.  This  I  found  to 
be  true.  One  day  while  I  was  still  enduring  the  terrible 
punishment  I  have  described  he  came  to  my  cell;  and 
■when  he  saw  the  plight  I  was  in,  he  sent  away  the 
official  in  charge,  untied  the  rope  by  which  I  was  sus- 
pended, and  let  me  down.  He  took  the  towel  that  was 
hanging  at  my  belt  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  my 
face.  Before  I  knew  it,  the  tears  were  rolling  down 
my  cheeks.  That  any  one  should  treat  a  hardened 
criminal  like  myself  with  such  kindness  was  more  than 
I  could  bear,  and  from  that  time  forward  I  was  a  com- 
pletely changed  man. 

What  a  curious  thing  a  man's  heart  is !  In  my  per- 
verse days  I  thought  everyone,  official  and  inmate 
alike,  was  against  me,  but  when  I  myself  changed, 
everyone  else  seemed  to  change  also,  and  to  grow  kind 
[45] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

and  considerate.     After  this,  I  received  nothing  but 
kindness  from  the  officials. 

Three  years  before  my  time  was  up,  I  received  a 
good  conduct  badge  from  the  prison  governor,  and 
made  up  my  mind  to  reform  when  I  was  released.  I 
decided  to  use  the  money  I  should  receive  from  my 
prison  work  to  start  me  up  in  some  honest  business. 
When  I  was  finally  freed  I  received  about  eighty  yen. 
I  may  say  that  I  received  nothing  for  my  first  seven 
years'  work. 


[46] 


A  LETTER  FROM  A  CHILD 

XL 

A  LETTER  FROM  A  CHILD 

Before  I  tell  how  it  fared  with  me  after  I  left  prison, 
I  want  to  go  back  and  tell  something  about  another  con- 
vict who  was  in  the  same  cell  with  me  before  I  re- 
pented of  my  wrong-doing.  The  man  was  serving  a 
nine  years'  sentence  for  burglary,  and  we  were  working 
out  our  time  together.  We  were  great  pals  and  always 
consulted  with  each  other  about  our  prison  escapades. 
One  day  the  man  was  looking  very  unhappy,  and  tears 
were  standing  in  his  eyes.  I  was  astonished,  for  I  had 
never  known  him  to  be  moved  by  anything,  not  even 
by  the  kind  talks  of  the  prison  chaplain.  I  had  never 
before  seen  even  a  suspicion  of  tears  in  his  eyes,  and 
I  thought  his  present  mood  very  strange.  ''What  is 
wrong  with  you?"  I  asked  him,  but  for  some  time  he 
said  nothing.  I  urged  him  further,  and  finally  he  said, 
"Brother,  listen  to  me.  Out  in  the  world  I  have  a  wife, 
and  a  boy  just  nine  years  of  age.  I  have  just  received 
a  letter  from  the  boy  written  in  his  childish  hand,  and  I 
am  finding  out  now  for  the  first  time  what  it  means  to 
to  the  little  fellow  to  have  his  father  in  prison.  He 
tells  me  that  when  any  dispute  arises  at  school,  he  is 
at  once  taunted  by  his  schoolmates  with  the  fact  that 
his  father  is  a  thief  and  is  in  jail.  He  says  he  is  so 
ashamed  that  as  soon  as  school  is  over  he  hurries  home, 
and  never  leaves  the  house  again.  When  I  read  the 
letter,  I  was  ashamed  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart." 

I  was  not  specially  touched  by  this  story  and  merely 
[47] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

said,  "Are  children  such  precious  things  as  all  that?" 
The  man  turned  on  me.  "I  may  be  a  wicked  man 
myself,  but  I  want  my  boy  to  be  good." 

His  tale  did  not  touch  me  then,  for  I  had  no  child 
of  my  own  and  my  heart  was  still  bad ;  but  as  I  think 
about  it  today,  I  am  overcome  with  emotion.  What  a 
wonderful  thing  is  the  love  of  a  parent !  What  pain  he 
will  endure  to  bring  a  wayward  child  to  repentance, 
even  one  as  wicked  as  myself.  Such  love  cannot  be 
compared  to  anything  in  the  world.  When  I  look  back 
and  think  that  this  man,  a  villain  like  myself,  who 
had  never  been  known  to  shed  a  tear,  should  be  struck 
to  the  bottom  of  his  heart  by  a  mere  letter  from  his 
little  child ;  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  letters  received 
from  wife  and  family  in  prison  must  have  far  more 
influence  on  a  man  than  the  cleverest  talks  a  prison 
chaplain  can  possibly  give.  According  to  the  prison 
regulations  a  convict  cannot  receive  a  letter  even  from 
his  own  family,  oftener  than  once  in  two  months.  I 
suppose  nothing  can  be  done  to  alter  this,  but  it  does 
seem  to  me  that  if  home  letters  were  given  to  the  in- 
mate at  once,  even  the  worst  villain  would  behave  bet- 
ter and  perhaps  find  some  incentive  to  reform.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  I  myself  saw  this  very  thing  happen 
before  my  own  eyes.  Feeling  is  not  very  deep  in  the 
heart  of  a  criminal,  and  in  my  own  case  it  was  very 
shallow.  This  being  so,  if  he  does  not  receive  letters 
from  his  family  oftener  than  once  in  two  months,  his 
memories  of  home  are  bound  to  weaken,  and  he  will  be 
less  likely  to  behave  himself  in  prison.  If  the  thought 
of  wife  and  child  is  constantly  in  his  heart  I  am  quite 
sure  he  will  not  break  prison  rules. 
[48] 


A  LETTER  FROM  A  CHILD 

The  man  I  spoke  of  reformed  after  receiving  his 
child's  letter;  but  the  many  punishments  he  had  suf- 
fered for  his  former  misdemeanours  had  already  weak- 
ened his  body,  and  he  died  while  still  in  prison.  If  he 
had  behaved  himself  from  the  very  first  he  might  have 
returned  to  his  family  once  more.  Of  course  he  was 
himself  entirely  to  blame,  for  his  death  was  the  result 
of  his  own  misbehaviour;  but  at  the  same  time  the  suf- 
fering of  his  wife  and  child  must  have  been  very  great. 
I  weep  tears  of  sympathy  as  I  think  of  it  now.  I  do 
not  know  where  the  man  lived,  but  his  name  was  Heisa- 
buro  Sasaki. 


[49] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XII. 

A  LETTER  FROM  AN  ACCOMPLICE 

I  shall  now  tell  the  cause  of  my  next  downfall,  that 
it  may  serve  to  warn  some  other  man  in  prison  against 
the  temptation  into  which  I  fell.  Up  to  the  day  of  my 
release  I  was  resolved  to  reform.  When  I  was  leav- 
ing the  prison  I  was  given  four  or  five  letters  that  an 
old  pal  of  mine  had  sent,  but  which  had  not  been  given 
to  me  until  then.  The  real  name  was  not  signed  but  I 
knew  at  once  from  whom  they  came.  I  had  intended  to 
return  to  my  home  at  once,  but  after  reading  the  let- 
ters I  decided  to  go  to  see  this  friend  first.  This  re- 
solve led  to  my  downfall.  Of  course  I  see  now  that  the 
real  cause  was  my  own  weak  will,  but  the  truth  remains 
that  the  letters  made  me  take  my  first  false  step. 

If  these  letters  had  been  destroyed  by  the  officials 
and  not  given  to  me  at  all,  I  might  have  gone  straight 
home  and  not  have  fallen  into  the  old  ways  again.  If 
it  is  dangerous  to  let  a  man  read  letters  from  his  pal 
while  he  is  in  prison,  it  is  surely  not  less  dangerous  to 
give  them  to  him  when  he  is  leaving.  I  do  not  say 
these  things  to  grumble,  but  for  the  consideration  of 
those  who  have  such  matters  in  charge. 

I  went  to  Tokyo  and  saw  this  friend,  and  we  talked 
about  the  days  we  had  been  together  in  prison,  and  of 
the  things  that  had  happened  after  he  left.  He  told 
me  the  whereabouts  of  another  pal  who  had  been  a 
former  accomplice,  and  I  thought  I  would  drop  in  on 
him  also,  and  then  go  straight  back  to  my  own  home  in 
Nagoya. 

[50] 


A  LETTER  FROM  AN  ACCOMPLICE 

This  man,  whose  name  was  Sekiguchi,  had  been  in 
the  same  workshop  with  me  in  Chiba  prison.  I  went 
to  his  house  in  Honjo  ward  and  found  that  he  kept  a 
laundry.  He  had  a  wife  and  child  and  two  employes 
living  in  the  house.  We  talked  an  hour  or  more  about 
our  life  together  in  prison,  and  then  my  friend  turned 
to  me  and  said,  "Ishii  San*,  where  are  you  thinking" 
of  going  now?"  I  told  him  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
to  behave  myself  and  go  back  to  my  own  home  at  once. 
"I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  have  reformed  and  that 
you  are  going  home,"  said  he,  "but  it  is  raining  now 
and  getting  late,  so  you  had  better  stop  with  me  over 
night  and  start  on  your  journey  in  the  morning."  I 
consented,  and  that  night  we  went  out  and  had  a  drink 
together.  Sekiguchi  said  to  me,  "Ishii  San,  if  you 
have  made  up  your  mind  to  reform,  it  really  makes 
no  difference  whether  you  stay  in  Tokyo  or  go  back  to 
your  own  home.  If  you  decide  to  stay  in  Tokyo  you 
can  count  on  me  to  do  what  I  can  to  help  you." 

I  was  easily  persuaded,  and  within  a  week  he  had 
found  a  house  in  Fukagawa  ward  for  me  at  a  rent  of 
six  yen  a  month,  and  I  set  up  a  small  cake  shop.  This 
happened  about  the  end  of  October,  1914.  I  managed 
to  make  from  about  seventy  sen  to  one  yen  f  a  day  at 
this  business.  During  the  next  four  months  Sekiguchi 
and  I  met  often,  drank  together,  talked  of  the  old  times, 
and  before  long  we  began  to  hatch  new  plots.  I  w^ould 
not  consent,  however,  to  commit  any  crimes  within 
the  city,  for  I  did  not  wish  to  bring  trouble  on  Seki- 
giichi's  wife  and  child. 

•  San — a  term  of  friendly  courtesy. 

t  Sea — a  coin  of  the  value  of  about  half  a  cent:   loo  sen  =  i   yen. 

[51] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

XIII. 

MY   MONEY   STOLEN 

One  day  I  was  robbed  of  my  money.  In  a  fit  of 
anger  over  the  robbery  I  sold  out  my  little  shop  and 
decided  to  leave  Tokyo  and  return  at  once  to  my  home 
in  Nagoya.  As  I  look  back  now,  I  think  how  foolish 
I  was  to  be  so  furious  at  being  robbed,  when  all  the 
time  I  was  robbing  people  myself.  I  should  have 
known  that  others  would  feel  the  same  way  about  me. 
I  told  Sekiguchi  about  my  decision  to  go  home,  and 
he  said,  "Well,  of  course,  if  you  are  bound  to  go,  I 
can't  stop  you;  but  if  you  happen  to  get  your  hands 
on  anything  down  in  the  country,  send  it  on  to  me.  Only 
don't  let  my  wife  know  anything  about  it."  I  as- 
sented in  words,  but  I  had  really  no  intention  of  con- 
tinuing my  wrongdoing  after  I  returned  home. 

I  arrived  in  Nagoya  about  the  third  or  fourth  of 
February,  191 5,  and  went  at  once  to  the  old  neighbour- 
hood where  I  had  lived  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  be- 
fore, but  found  everything  changed,  and  no  one  who 
knew  anything  about  my  wife.  I  stayed  at  a  hotel  that 
night  and  in  the  evening  visited  Osu  Kannon,  the  fam- 
ily temple.  Later  I  got  drunk,  and  in  my  drunkenness 
squandered  half  the  money  I  possessed.  Sake  is  called 
"lunatic's  water"  and  it  does  seem  to  be  that  very 
thing!  That  a  man  over  forty  years  of  age  as  I  was 
then,  should  spend  his  money  on  drink  and  rioting  is 
too  disgusting  to  think  about. 


[52] 


I  FIND  MY  WIFE 

XIV. 

I  FIND  MY  WIFE 

The  next  day  I  discovered  where  my  wife  h/ed,  but 
when  I  went  to  see  her,  I  found  that  she  belonged  to 
another  man.  Slie  had  not  heard  anything  of  me  after 
I  had  been  put  into  prison  eleven  years  before,  and  she 
naturally  thought  I  was  either  dead  or  had  forsaken 
her.  She  had  married  again  about  three  years  before  I 
turned  up.  She  was  very  much  astonished  to  see  me, 
and  she  told  me  some  of  the  things  that  had  happened 
during  my  absence,  and  especially  about  my  mother's 
death.  Her  husband  w^as  not  at  home  that  day,  and 
as  she  did  not  expect  him  back  at  night  she  asked  me 
to  stay  with  her  as  she  had  much  more  to  tell  me.  I 
refused,  however,  because  I  had  caused  her  enough 
trouble  already,  without  breaking  up  her  second  home, 
as  I  surely  would  have  done  had  I  stayed  in  the  house 
while  her  husband  was  absent.  She  belonged  to  him 
and  not  to  me,  for  I  had  basely  forsaken  her  for  more 
than  eleven  years.  My  wife  was  now  mine  no  longer, 
and  my  mother  was  dead,  so  there  was  no  one  left  in 
all  the  world  who  would  ever  give  me  a  thought. 

While  I  was  in  prison  I  believed  in  a  god  called 
Kompira  Sama.  I  decided  to  take  a  journey  to  Shi- 
koku  and  worship  at  the  shrine  there.  WHiat  made  me 
wish  to  go?  Had  some  sort  of  superstition  got  hold  of 
me?  At  any  rate  as  I  journeyed  along  on  my  way,  I 
committed  all  kinds  of  crimes.  I  wonder  how  the  true 
God  would  look  on  worship  offered  under  such  cir- 
cumstances ! 

[68] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XV. 

I  GO  TO  KOMPIRA  SHRINE. 

I  passed  through  Ise  on  my  way  from  Nagoya  and 
got  as  far  as  Kyoto.  By  this  time  I  had  less  than  five 
yen  left  in  my  pocket  and  I  began  to  feel  a  little  lonely. 
I  then  remembered  that  Sekiguchi  had  told  me  of  a 
friend  of  his  that  lived  in  Osaka,  so  I  made  my  way 
over  there,  and  found  the  man  living  in  a  certain 
hotel. 

I  put  up  at  the  same  place,  but  within  a  week  my 
money  was  all  gone,  and  I  had  to  give  up  my  idea  for 
the  time  being  of  going  to  Kompira  Shrine.  I  was 
weak  willed,  and  wicked  thoughts  soon  rose  in  my 
heart  again.  I  then  recalled  that  Sekiguchi  had  sug- 
gested that  if  I  picked  up  anything  on  my  journeys  I 
might  send  it  on  to  him.  I  got  hold  of  some  stuff,  sent 
it  by  freight  to  Tokyo  and  marked  it  "to  be  called 
for."  I  did  not  send  the  goods  to  his  house  in  case 
the  theft  should  be  discovered  by  the  neighbours,  and 
his  wife  implicated,  for  I  did  not  wish  to  cause  trouble 
to  her.  I  plunged  into  my  old  ways  again,  and  sent 
everything  I  stole  to  Tokyo. 

Not  long  after  arriving  in  Osaka  I  committed  a  bur- 
glary, assaulted  the  inmates,  and  stole  about  thirty  yen. 
It  would  have  been  difficult  to  account  for  having  so 
much  money  on  me  when  I  had  no  visible  means  of 
support;  so  I  laid  in  a  small  stock  of  cakes,  carried 
them  with  me  and  made  a  pretence  of  being  a  peddling 
confectioner.  I  then  set  out  from  Osaka.  Along  the 
[54] 


I  GO  TO  KOMPIRA  SHRINE 

way  I  deposited  a  little  money  now  and  then  in  the  post 
office  savings  bank,  and  took  care  to  have  the  pass- 
book always  with  me.  In  this  way  I  hoped  to  allay  any 
suspicions  the  police  might  have  of  me,  for  the  pass- 
book would  show  that  I  was  an  honest  man  and  saving 
money. 

I  wandered  from  place  to  place,  and  at  last  reached 
Okayama  where  I  committed  two  burglaries.  But  there 
the  judgment  of  Heaven  fell  upon  me.  My  feet  gave 
out  and  I  was  compelled  to  rest  for  a  few  days.  I 
started  on  again,  however,  and  gradually  made  my  way 
to  Amagi  where  I  put  up  at  a  house  where  only  filthy 
beggars  stayed.  I  did  not  mind  this  myself,  but  when 
I  went  to  the  public  bath  I  was  refused  admittance  on 
account  of  it.  This  led  to  a  quarrel  with  the  owner 
and  his  wife,  which  resulted  in  my  being  arrested  and 
taken  to  the  police  station.  Being  an  old  hand  I  knew 
I  must  first  of  all  establish  confidence,  and  so  I  showed 
my  post  office  passbook  to  the  police.  The  scheme  suc- 
ceeded and  I  was  let  off. 

But  I  must  tell  you  here  what  thoughts  were  in  my 
heart  at  this  time.  Although  I  had  escaped  the  police, 
I  still  was  very  angry  at  the  bath-house  man  and  his 
wife  for  daring  to  refuse  me  admittance  when  I  had 
money  to  pay,  and  I  vowed  then  and  there  to  return 
some  day  and  kill  off  the  whole  bath-house  family.  I 
tremble  now  when  I  think  of  my  determination  to  mur- 
der a  whole  family  simply  because  they  had  annoyed 
me. 

After  this,  I  took  a  small  steamer  and  went  from 
Tanoguchi  to  Shikoku,  stopped  one  night  at  Maru- 
game,  and  from  there  went  on  to  Kompira  Shrine, 
[55] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

which  I  had  originally  set  out  to  visit.  I  worshipped 
there,  and  then  made  my  way  back  to  Osaka  by  way 
of  Takamatsu.  Here  I  started  my  criminal  ways 
once  more.  I  sold  my  cake  shop  outfit  and  decided 
to  return  to  Tokyo  to  see  Sekiguchi.  When  I  got  as 
far  as  Kyoto,  however,  I  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  de- 
tective and  was  examined.  I  showed  my  passbook  and 
got  off  without  any  trouble.  I  was  again  held  up  by 
the  police  at  Yokkaichi,  but  managed  to  deceive  tliem 
also  in  the  same  way.  I  then  went  to  Kuwana  in  Ise, 
and  that  very  night  a  terrible  storm  occurred.  This 
seemed  to  offer  a  good  chance  for  committing  some 
depredation.  About  midnight  I  stole  out  very  quietly, 
but  soon  realised  that  someone  was  following  me.  I 
suddenly  heard  a  loud  voice  calling,  "Stop,  stop!"  It 
goes  without  saying  that  I  did  not  stop,  but  made  my 
escape  as  quickly  as  I  could.  I  plunged  into  another 
path,  succeeded  in  committing  the  crime  I  had  planned 
to  do,  waited  around  till  morning  and  returned  by  train 
to  Nagoya.    This  happened  on  the  twentieth  of  April, 

1915. 

On  the  twenty-third,  I  went  back  to  Tokyo  and 
found  Sekiguchi  in  great  distress.  He  had  been  gam- 
bling and  had  either  sold  or  pawned  all  the  stuff  I  had 
stolen  and  sent  up  to  him  from  the  country ;  he  had  dis- 
missed his  last  employe,  had  run  into  debt,  and  could 
scarcely  support  his  family.  It  was  difficult  for  him 
to  confess  to  me  that  he  had  been  gambling,  and  he  sim- 
ply told  me  that  business  had  not  been  good.  I  knew 
of  course  that  he  was  lying,  and  that  he  had  lost  his 
money  by  gambling,  but  I  pretended  to  believe  him. 
[5G] 


I  GO  TO  KOMPIRA  SHRINE 

One  day,  however,  he  said  to  me,  "Ishii  San,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  am  very  hard  up.  Can't  we  do  something 
to  help  matters  out?"  I  felt  sorry  for  him  and 
promised  to  do  what  I  could. 


[67J 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XVI. 

THE   MURDER  OF  OHARU,   THE  GEISHA 

On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-ninth  of  April  I  went 
to  Yokohama  by  street  car  thinking  to  try  my  hand 
at  something  there.  Somehow  or  other  I  did  not  feel 
in  the  mood  for  doing  anything  desperate,  and  I  wan- 
dered about  the  town  for  a  while  and  then  started  to 
walk  back  along  the  Tokaido  railroad.  About  ten 
o'clock  at  night  I  got  as  far  as  Suzugamori,  a  suburb 
of  Tokyo,  and  sat  down  to  rest  in  front  of  a  teahouse, 
which  was  closed  for  the  night.  Just  at  that  moment  a 
young  woman  twenty- four  or  twenty-five  years  of  age 
came  in  sight,  walking  along  by  herself.  I  was  sud- 
denly seized  with  an  overmastering  passion,  and  when 
I  had  taken  a  quick  glance  about  to  see  that  no  one 
was  in  sight,  I  sprang  up  and  seized  hold  of  her.  The 
girl  gave  a  loud  scream  and  shouted,  "Murder!  Mur- 
der !"  To  stop  her  cries  I  snatched  the  towel  that  hung 
at  my  belt,  twisted  it  around  her  neck  and  dragged  her 
forward  a  few  feet.  To  make  sure  she  would  not 
raise  her  voice  again,  I  kept  tightening  the  towel,  and 
finally  she  ceased  to  breathe.  I  then  looked  into  the 
girl's  kimono  sleeve  and  found  a  purse  containing 
about  thirty-six  yen  and  a  small  book  which  I  took 
possession  of,  and  escaped  from  the  place.  As  I  look 
back  now  I  realise  how  awful  the  fascination  of 
lust  is! 

More  than  this !  What  shall  I  say  of  myself  as  I 
realise  that  because  of  my  escape,  suspicion  was 
[58] 


THE  MURDER  OF  OHARU,  THE  GEISHA 

fastened  on  her  lover,  who  was  supposed  to  have  killed 
her  in  a  fit  of  jealousy?  Shall  I  not  call  myself  the 
worst  villain  that  ever  lived  ?  As  I  look  back  upon  the 
self  who  committed  that  awful  crime,  my  present  self 
recoils  in  horror,  and  the  hair  of  my  body  stands  up  on 
end  at  the  thought  of  my  terrible  sins.  How  awful 
it  was!  The  blame  fell  on  the  innocent  Komori,  the 
girl's  lover,  who  was  confined  in  prison  for  many 
months  for  the  crime  I  had  committed.  (As  a  matter 
of  fact,  however,  I  did  not  know  this  until  some  time 
later.) 

On  the  morning  of  the  thirtieth,  I  returned  to  Tokyo 
to  Sekiguchi's  house  and  loafed  about  for  four  or  five 
days  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  About  the  seventh 
of  May  I  started  out  again  on  my  wanderings,  went 
to  Nagoya  and  committed  a  burglary  with  assault. 
Before  leaving  the  house  I  tied  the  hands  and  feet  of 
my  victims  and  left  them  in  that  condition.  How  heart- 
less and  unfeeling  I  was ! 

About  the  middle  of  May  I  returned  again  to  Tokyo. 
I  began  to  think,  however,  that  if  I  fooled  about  much 
longer  and  did  nothing,  I  might  be  suspected  by  the 
neighbourhood.  So  I  made  a  pretence  of  doing  busi- 
ness, but  charged  about  ten  per  cent  less  than  the  cost 
price  in  order  to  gain  the  good  will  of  the  people  round 
about. 


[59] 


A.  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

XVII. 

THE    YOKOHAMA    MURDFR. 

About  the  fourteenth  or  fifteenth  of  June  I  began  to 
wander  again,  and  this  time  took  the  train  from 
Shinagawa  to  Yokohama,  thinking  to  commit  some 
robbery.  On  the  night  of  the  eighteenth  I  broke  into 
a  certain  house,  bound  the  inmates,  and  tried  by  threats 
to  force  the  wife  to  tell  me  where  their  money  was. 
At  this  the  man  began  to  shout,  "Thief !  thief !"  where- 
upon, as  I  knew  it  would  be  the  end  of  me  if  the  neigh- 
bourhood heard,  I  seized  a  towel  that  was  hanging  in 
the  room,  and  twisted  it  around  his  neck.  The  wife, 
seeing  me  do  this,  summoned  up  her  strength  and 
shouted  with  all  her  might,  "Murder!  murder!"  At 
this  I  seized  a  narrow  obi  *  that  was  hanging  in  the 
room  and  strangled  her  also. 

Just  then  I  heard  a  voice  from  a  neighbouring  house, 
and  taking  time  only  to  seize  the  woman's  gold  watch 
which  was  lying  near,  I  made  my  escape.  As  I  think 
of  this  today  I  realise  what  an  awful  villain  I  was. 
Had  I  been  just  an  ordinary  bad  man,  I  should  prob- 
ably have  fled  when  the  man  shouted  for  help,  but  I 
simply  courted  danger.  When  the  wife  saw  her  hus- 
band killed  before  her  eyes,  what  an  awful  horror  it 
must  have  been !  Anyone  would  have  shouted  for  help 
as  she  did.  And  yet  for  doing  that  I  killed  her.  As  I 
think  back  on  this  today,  I  wonder  if  the  woman's  hate 
could  have  been  appeased  even  if  my  body  had  been 
cut  in  pieces. 

•  A   Japanese    woman's   girdle. 

[60] 


THE  YOKOHAMA  MURDER 

After  leaving  the  house  I  walked  along  the  Tokaido 
railroad  for  a  while,  broke  into  another  house,  stole 
some  things,  and  sent  them  to  Sekiguchi.  Later  on  I 
went  to  Motoyoshiwara,  stole  again  and  sent  this  stuff 
to  Tokyo.  At  Iwabuchi  I  was  walking  along  about 
midnight,  thinking  to  do  something,  when  a  policeman 
suddenly  appeared  and  stopped  me.  There  seemed  no 
way  of  escape,  so  I  went  along  with  the  policeman, 
taking  advantage  of  the  darkness,  however,  to  drop 
my  dagger  by  the  side  of  the  road.  When  I  was  ex- 
amined at  the  police  station,  I  showed  my  passbook 
and  as  usual  was  let  off.  I  retraced  my  steps,  picked 
up  the  dagger  I  had  dropped  by  the  roadside,  and 
walked  on.  As  the  night  was  very  dark  I  stumbled 
and  fell  headlong  into  a  river  thirteen  or  fourteen  feet 
below  me.  I  broke  a  rib,  but  managed  to  crawl  out 
as  far  as  a  strawstack  in  a  nearby  field;  and  lay  there 
for  three  days  and  three  nights  unable  to  move,  and 
without  anything  to  eat  or  drink.  I  thought  I  should 
die,  but  I  finally  recovered,  although  I  was  not  able  to 
commit  any  more  crimes  for  some  time. 

After  this  I  gradually  made  my  way  to  Hamamatsu 
and  there  put  up  at  a  cheap  lodging  house.  When  I 
had  been  there  about  a  week  I  came  across  a  woman, 
abandoned  by  her  husband,  with  an  eleven-year-old 
child.  She  was  in  great  straits  and  had  sold  not  only 
her  own  clothes  to  pay  for  her  lodgings,  but  those  of 
the  child  also.  Hardened  sinner  though  I  was,  I  felt 
sorry  for  her  and  gave  her  money  to  pay  her  debts.  I 
stayed  on  for  three  or  four  days  longer,  and  during 
that  time  I  showed  her  the  book  I  had  found  in  the 
sleeve  of  the  geisha  I  murdered  in  Suzugamori.  Dur- 
[61] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

ing  my  trial  this  woman  was  found  and  brought  up 
from  Hamamatsu  to  testify  in  court  that  she  had  seen 
this  book  in  my  possession.  This  witness,  presented 
at  a  time  when  my  confession  was  not  beheved,  served 
as  evidence  that  I  had  committed  the  crime  at  Suzuga- 
mori.  I  gave  the  woman  enough  money  to  set  up  a 
little  soap  shop,  and  with  that  I  left  her. 

By  this  time  I  had  recovered  sufficiently  to  go  back 
to  my  evil  ways  again,  but  just  as  I  was  ready  to  start 
off  I  was  stopped  by  a  detective.  I  showed  my  pass- 
book and  also  a  letter  of  sympathy  I  had  received  from 
Sekiguchi  on  account  of  my  accident,  and  I  got  off  once 
more  without  any  trouble. 


[62] 


I  STEAL  WEAPONS 
XVIII. 

I  STEAL   WEAPONS   TO    COMMIT    FURTHER    CRIMES, 

I  visited  Inari  shrine,  and  while  there  noticed  a 
sword  shop  directly  in  front  of  the  temple  gate,  so  I 
broke  into  the  shop  that  night  and  stole  a  sword  about 
three  feet  long  and  a  dagger  nearly  a  foot  long.  One 
night  about  the  end  of  July,  I  went  to  Toyohashi,  and 
about  two  in  the  morning  I  was  standing  in  front  of 
a  coal  shop  in  a  certain  street,  having  a  look  at  the 
place  with  the  thought  of  breaking  in  if  I  could.  Sud- 
denly I  heard  a  loud  voice  call,  "Robber!  robber!"  and 
an  attempt  was  made  by  a  band  of  policemen  to  seize 
me.  I  drew  the  sword  and  began  to  fight  with  might 
and  main.  After  about  fifteen  minutes  I  wounded  one 
of  the  policemen  seriously,  but  managed  to  escape  with 
only  a  slight  wound  myself.  I  had  a  notion,  however, 
that  the  place  was  probably  surrounded  by  a  cordon 
of  police,  and  I  made  toward  the  river  Toyogawa  which 
was  not  far  away.  This  river  was  about  one  hundred 
and  eighty  feet  wide,  and  although  deep  was  not  very 
swift.  I  drew  my  clothes  up  over  my  head  to  keep 
them  as  dry  as  possible,  and  swam  across. 

What  shall  I  say  of  this  evil  self  of  mine?  Knowing 
full  well  the  unspeakable  suffering  and  distress  I  was 
causing,  I  still  went  on.  Shall  I  call  it  stupidity  or 
mere  heartlessness  ?  Words  fail  to  describe  what  an 
abandoned  fellow  I  was. 

Later  I  made  my  way  to  Okazaki,  went  to  a  moun- 
tain near  by,  hid  my  dagger,  and  later  on  went  by  day- 
[63] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

light  to  the  spot  to  get  it.  I  suddenly  ran  into  two  men 
who  looked  like  detectives.  They  asked  me  what  busi- 
ness had  brought  me  to  the  place,  and  I  made  a  random 
reply:  "Oh,  I  work  at  the  menagerie  in  Nagoya,  and 
yesterday  I  carelessly  let  a  hawk  escape  and  am  look- 
ing for  it."  This  reply  seemed  to  satisfy  the  men  and 
they  let  me  go. 

That  same  evening  about  nine  o'clock  I  started  again 
for  the  mountain  to  get  my  dagger.  Three  or  four 
men  suddenly  sprang  on  me,  and  with  loud  voices 
shouted,  "We  have  something  to  say  to  you."  The 
sudden  onslaught  took  my  breath  away  and  I  drew 
a  knife  I  had  on  me  and  began  to  fight  wildly.  I 
wounded  one  of  them  and  then  made  my  escape  before 
assistance  could  be  simimoned  from  the  neighbourhood. 
I  rushed  towards  the  Tonosamagawa,  a  river  about 
sixty  feet  wide,  swam  across,  ran  about  five  miles  in 
the  darkness,  and  by  dawn  arrived  at  a  place  called 
Koromo,  where  I  caught  the  stage  for  Nagoya,  which 
was  about  fifteen  miles  distant. 

One  of  the  passengers  was  a  Koromo  police  official 
who  was  going  to  Nagoya  on  business,  and  I  overheard 
him  telling  a  fellow  passenger  about  the  crime  I  had 
committed  at  Toyohashi.  Of  course  I  gave  no  sign 
that  I  heard  the  conversation,  but  I  was  greatly  alarmed 
and  felt  the  journey  of  fifteen  miles  a  very  long  one. 
Now  an  ordinary  person  would  feel  unusually  secure 
while  travelling  in  the  same  coach  with  a  police  offi- 
cial, and  the  fact  that  I  was  nearly  scared  to  death 
under  those  circumstances,  is  a  revelation,  as  I  think 
of  it  now,  of  the  guilty  conscience  that  I  had. 

[64] 


FLIGHT  TO  OSAKA 
XIX. 

FLIGHT    TO    OSAKA. 

We  arrived  in  Nagoya  towards  evening.  I  stayed 
there  over  night,  and  early  in  the  morning  started  out 
to  commit  some  new  crime.  As  I  was  passing  the  gate 
of  the  Nishihonganji  temple  I  noticed  four  or  five  beg- 
gars sitting  together  in  very  earnest  conversation.  I 
had  no  special  intention  of  listening,  but  could  not  help 
overhearing,  and  I  learned  that  they  were  talking  about 
the  crimes  I  had  just  committed  in  Toyohashi  and 
Okazaki.  I  made  some  casual  inquiries  of  them,  and 
was  told  that  two  or  three  days  before,  robberies  had 
been  committed  at  both  Toyohashi  and  Okazaki,  that 
two  policemen  had  been  injured,  and  that  the  robber 
had  escaped.  The  thief  was  supposed  to  be  in  Nagoya, 
and  the  police  in  searching  for  him  had  been  bothering 
these  very  beggars. 

Under  these  circumstances  Nagoya  seemed  a  rather 
dangerous  place  for  me,  especially  as  I  had  no  visible 
means  of  support.  So  I  bought  a  scissors-grinder's 
outfit,  and  set  out  with  it  along  the  Tokaido  railroad 
towards  the  west.  I  journeyed  on,  passing  through 
Kyoto  to  Osaka,  where  I  remained  about  ten  days.  I 
here  recalled  the  insult  I  had  received  from  the  bath- 
house man  and  his  wife  at  Amagi,  and  as  the  place 
was  near  by,  I  decided  to  go  over  and  wreak  vengeance 
on  them  as  I  had  planned.  What  an  awful  heart  I 
had! 

I  want  to  tell  here  how  the  police  came  to  know 
[65] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

that  I  had  hidden  a  dagger  in  the  mountain  near 
Okazaki,  and  so  had  lain  in  wait  for  me.  That  very 
day  a  farmer  of  the  neighbourhood  had  found  it  in 
the  rice  straw  where  I  had  hidden  it  and  notified  the 
police  at  once.  The  police  had  the  dagger  already  in 
their  possession  and  were  guarding  the  place  when  I 
encountered  them. 

I  shall  now  go  on  with  my  story.  I  left  Osaka  and 
got  as  far  as  Kobe  when  once  more  the  judgment  of 
Heaven  fell  upon  me.  My  eyes  gave  out  and  I  became 
almost  blind,  so  that  for  some  time  I  could  do  no  more 
mischief.  Nevertheless  I  was  determined  that  some- 
how or  other  I  was  going  to  get  to  that  bath-house, 
and  I  set  out,  although  I  could  scarcely  see.  I  got  as 
far  as  a  place  called  Akashi,  when  my  eyes  got  very 
much  worse  and  I  could  go  no  further.  I  got  some  eye 
medicine,  but  it  did  me  no  good,  so  I  decided  to  go 
back  to  Tokyo.  I  sent  a  letter  to  Sekiguchi  asking 
him  to  send  me  five  yen,  and  towards  the  end  of  Octo- 
ber I  returned  by  train  to  Tokyo. 

The  condition  of  Sekiguchi's  home  was  unspeakable 
in  its  misery.  Not  only  had  he  pawned  the  stolen 
goods  I  had  sent  him  from  the  country,  but  the  very 
clothes  of  his  wife  and  child  were  gone.  There  was 
not  a  single  change  of  clothing  in  the  house.  My  eyes 
were  still  weak  and  I  could  not  go  out  and  steal  any- 
thing for  them,  so  I  sold  all  the  spare  clothing  I  had 
and  gave  them  the  money  to  help  them  out.  I  went  to 
the  Mitsui  Charity  Hospital  for  treatment,  and  by  the 
beginning  of  November  I  was  fairly  well  again. 


[66] 


FIRST  CRIME  IN  TOKYO 
XX. 

FIRST   CRIME   IN    TOKYO. 

One  day  Sekiguchi  said  to  me,  "Ishii  San,  I  am  des- 
perate !  I  cannot  pay  this  month's  bills,  and  I  must 
get  money  somehow.  Let  us  start  out  and  see  what  we 
can  do  in  Tokyo."  Now  my  eyes  were  still  troubling 
me,  and  besides,  I  hesitated  to  do  anything  in  Tokyo 
for  fear  the  results  would  recoil  on  Sekiguchi's  inno- 
cent wife  and  child.  Also  I  had  never  committed  a 
crime  within  the  city  and  I  was  unwilling  to  begin. 

I  agreed  to  help  Sekiguchi  provided  it  were  outside 
the  city,  but  he  assured  me  there  was  not  the  slightest 
danger  of  getting  caught.  I  could  not  very  well  go 
alone  into  the  country  with  my  eyes  in  their  present 
state,  and  as  I  saw  the  suffering  of  the  family  every  day 
before  my  very  eyes,  I  finally  agreed  to  help  Sekiguchi 
inside  the  city.  In  so  doing  I  only  added  sorrow  to  his 
wife  and  child,  and  as  I  look  back  now,  I  feel  a  very 
deep  compassion  for  them. 

One  night  Sekiguchi  and  I  went  together  to  Fuka- 
gawa  ward  and  attempted  to  enter  a  certain  house. 
The  servant  was  aroused,  however,  and  began  to  throw 
things  at  us  until  we  were  obliged  to  flee.  I  was  so 
angry  that  I  determined  to  return  some  day  and  burn 
the  house  down.  Looking  back  now  I  cannot  but 
think  what  a  mean  wretch  I  was !  The  servant,  mind- 
ful only  of  his  duty  to  his  master,  surely  showed  a 
[67] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

loyal  spirit  in  protecting  his  master's  belongings  from 
the  thieves  who  broke  into  the  house,  and  yet  I  had 
no  other  feeling  than  hate  for  him.  What  a  fool  I 
was! 


[68] 


CONFESSION  OF  OHARU'S  MURDER 
XXI. 

CONFESSION    OF    OHARU'S    MURDER. 

After  this  it  was  not  safe  for  either  of  us  to  go 
back  to  Sekiguchi's  house,  and  on  the  eighth  of  Decem- 
ber we  decided  to  start  off  together  for  the  country. 
But  the  wrath  of  Heaven  overtook  us.  That  evening 
when  we  returned  to  our  lodgings,  five  policemen  were 
waiting  for  us.  Caught  unawares,  we  were  soon 
arrested  and  taken  to  the  police  station.  We  were 
arrested  on  suspicion  for  our  attempted  burglary  in 
Fukagawa  ward ;  but  as  there  was  no  special  evidence 
against  us,  I  thought  I  could  easily  deceive  the  authori- 
ties as  I  had  so  often  done  before,  and  get  free  again. 

I  was  put  into  a  police  cell  with  seven  or  eight  other 
men  who  were  talking  among  themselves  about  some 
murders  that  had  been  committed  around  Tokyo.  This 
and  that  murderer  had  been  arrested,  they  said,  and 
among  them  they  mentioned  a  man  named  Komori 
who  was  being  tried  for  the  murder  of  a  geisha  at 
Suzugamori.  When  I  heard  this,  I  said  to  myself, 
*'How  can  they  be  trying  Komori  for  this  murder, 
when  it  was  I  who  did  it?"  For  a  moment  I  doubted 
my  own  ears,  but  upon  inquiry  found  that  the  men 
knew  the  facts,  and  that  it  was  actually  true  that  an 
innocent  man  was  being  tried  for  the  Oharu  murder. 

I  began  to  think.  When  I  was  arrested  and  sen- 
tenced for  my  crimes  I  hated  policemen  and  detectives, 
judges  and  procurators,  and  was  always  dissatisfied 
with  the  sentences  I  received,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
[69] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

I  really  committed  the  crimes.  Everyone  who  com- 
mits crime  has  the  same  feeling.  What  then  must  be 
the  feeling  and  the  suffering  of  this  innocent  Komori 
as  he  lay  in  prison  for  months,  accused  of  a  crime  he 
did  not  commit?  What  about  his  family  and  rela- 
tives ?  I  cannot  express  by  word  of  mouth,  nor  in  any 
shape  or  form,  the  agony  that  must  have  been  theirs. 
I  kept  on  thinking.  After  all,  a  human  being  must  die 
once  any  way,  and  so  I  decided  to  confess  my  guilt,  and 
save  the  innocent  Komori. 

Three  or  four  days  after  I  had  confessed  the  mur- 
der, but  while  I  was  still  in  the  police  station,  a  man 
from  Okazaki  was  put  into  the  same  cell  with  me.  I 
asked  him  when  he  had  been  last  in  Okazaki,  and  when 
he  said  he  had  been  there  in  July,  I  inquired  if  any- 
thing had  happened  about  that  time.  He  replied  that 
nothing  special  had  occurred  except  that  there  had 
been  a  robbery  in  Toyohashi,  and  a  policeman  had  been 
killed.  A  fight  between  a  robber  and  the  police  had 
also  taken  place  at  Okazaki  about  the  same  time;  an- 
other policeman  had  been  killed,  and  the  robber  had 
escaped.  Until  I  heard  this  I  did  not  know  that  I  had 
killed  the  policemen.  I  thought  I  had  only  wounded 
them.  I  decided  that  I  might  as  well  make  a  clean 
breast  of  all  my  crimes,  which  I  did  at  once. 

I  was  transferred  from  the  police  station  to  the 
prison  where  I  am  now  writing  this  story,  on  the  thir- 
tieth of  December,  19 15.  As  I  look  back  now,  I  see 
that  all  this  was  the  working  of  God's  providence.  Of 
course  at  the  time  I  knew  nothing  of  God's  heart,  but 
I  firmly  believe  now  that  God  had  already  fathomed 
the  depths  of  mine. 

[70] 


MEMORIES  AND  REFLECTIONS 
XXII. 

MEMORIES    AND    REFLECTIONS. 

Up  to  this  point  I  have  given  in  outline  the  story 
of  my  life  from  my  childhood  on  through  my  life  of 
crime;  but  just  here  I  wish  to  go  back  and  tell  some- 
thing of  the  life  I  lived  before  I  was  put  into  Chiba 
prison  in  1904.  The  crimes  that  were  found  out  were 
only  a  small  fraction  of  the  depredations  I  actually 
committed,  and  at  the  time  I  considered  myself  very 
fortunate  to  escape  the  law.  As  I  look  back  now  I 
see  that  there  was  not  such  another  sinner  in  all  the 
world.  From  the  time  I  was  nineteen  years  of  age  I 
looked  upon  other  people's  belongings  as  if  they  were 
my  own,  and  I  took  their  property,  not  once  or  twice, 
but  times  without  number. 

I  have  endured  at  times  untold  misery  and  distress. 
Once  when  I  was  chased  by  detectives  I  escaped  to  the 
mountains  where  I  hid  for  eight  days,  with  nothing 
whatever  to  eat,  and  only  water  to  drink.  In  the  depths 
of  winter  I  have  spent  snowy  nights  out  in  the  open 
fields.  I  have  been  nearly  devoured  by  mosquitoes  in 
the  hot  summer  nights.  I  have  endured  privations  and 
hardships  of  all  kinds.  As  I  think  back  now,  I  see  that 
there  is  nothing  so  futile  as  crime.  Had  I  expended  the 
same  amount  of  energy  and  endured  the  same  hard- 
ships for  the  sake  of  making  an  honest  living  I  might 
have  made  a  success  of  my  life.  How  useless  it  was 
to  suffer  so  for  the  sake  of  crime!  I  have  not  only 
endured  untold  hardships  myself,  but  I  have  caused 
[71] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

suffering  to  others,  and  in  the  end  nothing  remains  that 
I  can  call  my  own.  I  have  not  a  single  possession  left 
me  but  my  evil  deeds  and  my  crimes,  and  from  these  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  separate  myself. 

I  wish  to  add  that  the  policemen  I  injured  at  Toyo- 
hashi  and  Okazaki  did  not  die^ 


[72] 


ATTER  DEATH? 
XXIII. 

AFTER   DEATH? 

Let  me  now  tell  how  I  came  to  believe  from  the  bot- 
tom of  my  heart  in  the  teachings  of  Jesus  Christ,  after 
I  got  into  prison.  I  want  to  tell  everything  just  as  it 
happened,  without  concealment  and  without  decora- 
tion. People  of  learning  who  read  this  story  may  find 
much  in  it  that  does  not  seem  consistent,  but  I  ask  such 
people  to  try  to  sympathise  with  the  efforts  of  an  un- 
educated fellow  to  reveal  his  heart  just  as  it  is. 

At  the  end  of  December,  191 5,  I  was  removed  from 
the  police  station  to  Tokyo  prison.  In  order  to  atone 
for  my  sins  I  had  confessed  everything,  and  I  felt  that 
my  life  was  already  ended.  Day  by  day  I  sat  alone 
in  my  cell  with  no  one  to  talk  to,  and  with  nothing  to 
do.  One  night  when  everyone  was  asleep,  and  the 
prison  was  silent,  I  suddenly  wakened  and  began  to 
think  of  all  the  unmentionable  sins  I  had  ever  com- 
mitted. To  be  sure  I  had  given  myself  up  to  die  when 
I  confessed  my  sins,  but  now  in  the  darkness  I  began 
to  think  of  what  would  happen  if  I  should  die  just  as 
I  was.  Where  should  I  go  ?  Was  there  such  a  thing 
as  a  soul?  I  did  not  know,  but  if  there  were,  must 
mine  not  go  to  Hell?  Surely  this  was  a  dark  future 
for  me,  and  as  I  thought  of  it  I  was  filled  with  an 
anguish  I  could  scarcely  bear.  In  the  days  of  my 
strength,  when  I  was  concerned  only  with  lust  and 
[73] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

money,  such  thoughts  never  entered  my  head;  but 
now  with  certain  death  staring  me  in  the  face,  my 
agony  was  heavier  than  I  could  bear.  I  solemnly  affirm 
that  I  speak  the  truth  when  I  say  this^ 


[74] 


A  NEW  YEAR'S  GIFT  IN  PRISON 

XXIV. 

A  NEW   year's  gift  IN    PRISON. 

The  year  191 5  closed  and  the  first  day  of  the  New 
Year  opened.  Early  in  the  morning  a  special  New 
Year's  meal  *  was  brought  to  me  instead  of  the  ordi- 
nary prison  fare,  and  I  was  told  that  two  ladies  by  the 
names  of  Miss  West  and  Miss  Macdonald  had  sent  it 
to  me.  Who  could  these  two  persons  be,  I  wondered. 
I  had  never  seen  nor  heard  of  them  before.  There 
was  no  reason  why  I  should  receive  anything  from 
people  I  did  not  know,  and  I  told  the  official  that  I 
could  not  accept  the  gift.  The  official  said  that  these 
ladies  were  Christian  missionaries,  and  had  sent  the 
food  out  of  kindness  and  sympathy,  and  so  I  need  not 
hesitate  to  accept  it.  As  I  look  back  now  I  cannot  but 
think  how  perverse  is  the  heart  of  a  wicked  man!  It 
cannot  be  described  either  by  word  or  by  parable. 
When  I  was  out  in  the  world  I  robbed  people  with- 
out compunction,  but  now  when  something  is  offered 
to  me  freely,  I  naively  refuse  it.  What  kind  of  fool- 
ish perversion  can  this  be? 

The  food  was  sent  to  me  during  the  first  three  days 
of  the  New  Year.  A  few  days  later  a  New  Testament 
and  two  or  three  other  Christian  books  were  received 
from  the  same  source,  but  I  put  them  up  on  the  shelf 
and  did  not  even  look  into  them. 

•  During  the  first  three  days  of  the  New  Year,  which  are  universally 
celebrated  in  Japan,  everyone,  even  down  to  the  poorest,  eats  a  certain  kind 
of   rice  food,   called   mocki,   specially   prepared   for  the   occasion. 

[76] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 


XXV. 

A   VISIT    FROM    MISS    WEST. 

One  day  a  person  by  the  name  of  Miss  West  came 
purposely  to  visit  me,  and  talked  to  me  about  Jesus 
Christ.  I  shall  tell  you  exactly  what  I  thought  at  that 
time.  When  I  was  out  in  the  world  I  had  not  listened 
seriously  even  to  talks  about  my  own  religion,  and  so 
naturally  I  had  never  wanted  to  hear  about  Christian- 
ity. Although  I  thought  it  was  very  kind  of  Miss  West 
to  come  to  talk  to  me,  I  did  not  pay  much  attention  to 
what  she  said.  Of  course  I  behaved  with  decorum  as 
the  occasion  demanded.  These  visits  continued  from 
time  to  time^ 


[76] 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS 
XXVI. 

FIRST    IMPRESSIONS. 

One  day  I  got  tired  of  sitting  by  myself  with  noth- 
ing to  do,  and  just  for  the  sake  of  putting  in  the  time, 
I  took  the  New  Testament  down  from  the  shelf,  and, 
with  no  intention  of  seriously  looking  into  it,  I  glanced 
at  the  beginning  and  then  at  the  middle.  I  was 
casually  turning  over  the  leaves  when  I  came  across  a 
place  that  looked  rather  interesting  and  I  began  to 
read : — 

And  it  came  to  pass,  when  the  time  was  come  that 
he  should  be  received  up,  he  steadfastly  set  his  face  to 
go  to  Jerusalem,  and  sent  messengers  before  his  face; 
and  they  went,  and  entered  into  a  village  of  the 
Samaritans,  to  make  ready  for  him.  And  they  did 
not  receive  him,  because  his  face  zvas  as  though  he 
woidd  go  to  Jerusalem.  And  when  his  disciples  James 
and  John  saw  this,  they  said.  Lord,  wilt  thou  that  we 
command  fire  to  come  down  from  heaven,  and  consume 
them,  even  as  Elias  did?  But  he  turned  and  rebuked 
them,  and  said.  Ye  know  not  what  manner  of  spirit 
ye  are  of.  For  the  son  of  man  is  not  come  to  destroy 
meal's  lives,  but  to  save  them. 

I  laid  the  book  down  thinking  that  these  were  surely 
the  words  of  some  one  who  wanted  to  teach  men  the 
path  of  virtue,  but  otherwise  I  was  not  specially  moved 
by  them.  Later  on  I  picked  up  the  book  again  and  read 
these  words: 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

Then  drew  near  unto  him  all  the  publicans  and  sin- 
ners for  to  hear  him.  And  the  Pharisees  and  scribes 
murtnured,  saying.  This  man  receiveth  sinners,  and 
eatefh  with  them.  And  he  spake  this  parable  unto 
them,  saying.  What  man  of  you,  having  an  hundred 
sheep,  if  he  lose  one  of  them,  doth  not  leave  the  ninety 
and  nine  in  the  wilderness,  and  go  after  that  which  is 
lost,  until  he  find  it?  And  when  he  hath  found  it,  he 
layeth  it  on  his  shoulders,  rejoicing.  And  when  he 
Cometh  home,  he  calleth  together  his  friends  and  neigh- 
bours, saying  unto  them.  Rejoice  with  me;  for  I  have 
found  my  sheep  that  was  lost!  I  say  unto  you,  that 
likewise  joy  shall  be  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that 
repenteth,  more  than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  per- 
sons which  need  no  repentance. 

Still  I  was  not  sufficiently  impressed  to  have  any 
special  belief  in  what  I  was  reading,  I  simply  thought 
these  were  words  that  any  preacher  might  use.  I  put 
the  New  Testament  on  the  shelf  again  and  did  not 
read  any  more  for  some  time.  A  little  later,  when  I 
was  tired  of  doing  nothing,  I  took  the  book  down  once 
more  and  began  to  read.  This  time  I  read  how  Jesus 
was  handed  over  to  Pilate  by  his  enemies,  was  tried 
unjustly  and  put  to  death  by  crucifixion. 

As  I  read  this  I  began  to  think.  This  person  they 
called  Jesus  was  evidently  a  man  who  at  any  rate  tried 
to  lead  others  into  the  path  of  virtue,  and  it  seemed  an 
inhuman  thing  to  crucify  him  simply  because  he  had 
different  religious  opinions  from  others.  Even  I, 
hardened  criminal  that  I  was,  thought  it  a  shame  that 
his  enemies  should  have  treated  him  in  this  way. 
[78] 


"FATHER,  FORGIVE  THEM!" 

xxvn. 

"father,  forgive  them!" 

I  went  on,  and  my  attention  was  next  taken  by  these 
words  :  And  Jesus  said,  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  wlmt  they  do.  I  stopped :  I  was  stabbed  to 
the  heart,  as  if  pierced  by  a  five-inch  nail.  What  did 
the  verse  reveal  to  me  ?  Shall  I  call  it  the  love  of  the 
heart  of  Christ ?  Shall  I  call  it  His  compassion?  I  do 
not  know  what  to  call  it.  I  only  know  that  with  an 
unspeakably  grateful  heart,  I  believed.  Through  this 
simple  sentence  I  was  led  into  the  whole  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

This  is  how  I  thought  it  out: — I  suppose  a  man's 
greatest  enemy  is  the  one  who  seeks  to  take  his  life 
from  him.  There  is  surely  no  greater  enemy  than  this. 
Now  at  the  very  moment  when  Jesus'  life  was  being 
taken  from  him,  he  prayed  for  his  enemies  to  the  God 
of  Heaven.  Father,  forgive  them  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do.  What  else  could  I  believe  but  that  he 
was  indeed  the  son  of  God?  I  argued  that  an  ordinary 
man  is  filled  with  anger  and  hatred  and  every  other 
spiteful  passion  on  the  slightest  provocation.  Jesus, 
on  the  other  hand,  prayed  for  his  enemies  at  the  very 
moment  his  life  was  being  taken, — that  life  which  was 
so  precious  that  nothing  could  take  its  place.  Was  an 
act  like  this  possible  for  an  ordinary  man?  I  do  not 
think  so.    Then  we  cannot  but  say  that  he  was  God. 

Again,  chaplains  and  pastors,  and  those  who  see  men 
die,  agree  that  the  last  words  a  man  utters  come  from 
[79] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

the  depths  of  his  soul,  and  that  he  does  not  die  with  lies 
upon  his  lips.  Jesus'  last  words  were,  Father,  forgive 
them  for  they  know  not  what  they  do,  and  so  I  cannot 
but  believe  that  they  reveal  his  true  heart. 


[80] 


GIFTS  OF  THE  PRISON  HOUSE 

XXVIII. 

GIFTS    OF    THE    PRISON    HOUSE. 

I  want  to  tell  you  what  divine  favours  were  given  me 
after  I  became  a  believer  in  Christ.  First  I  received 
the  imperishable  and  everlasting  salvation  of  that  most 
important  part  of  man,  his  soul.  As  it  is  written: 
Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you.  He  that  heareth  my 
word,  and  helieveth  on  him  that  sent  me,  hath  ever- 
lasting life,  and  shall  not  come  into  condemnation,  hut 
is  passed  from  death  unto  life.  And  again :  Him  that 
Cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  If  we  be- 
lieve these  words  then  we  know  that  God  has  not  for- 
saken us  but  has  saved  our  souls  forever. 

It  was  only  after  I  got  into  prison  that  I  came  to 
believe  that  man  really  has  a  soul,  and  I  shall  tell  you 
how  I  came  to  see  this.  In  the  prison  yard  chrysan- 
themums have  been  planted  to  please  the  eyes  of  the 
inmates.  When  the  season  comes  they  bear  beautiful 
flowers,  but  in  the  winter  they  are  nipped  by  the  frost, 
and  wither.  Our  outer  eye  tells  us  that  the  flowers  are 
dead,  but  this  is  not  the  real  truth.  When  the  season 
returns  the  buds  sprout  once  more  and  the  beautiful 
flowers  bloom  again.  And  so  I  cannot  but  believe  that 
if  God  in  his  mercy  does  not  allow  even  the  flowers  to 
die,  there  surely  is  a  soul  in  man  which  He  intends 
shall  live  forever. 

I  shall  now  speak  of  a  second  favour  which  I  have 
received  from  God.  When  I  was  free  I  travelled  about 
west  and  east  out  in  the  world,  and  saw  and  heard 
[81] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

many  things,  and  had  varied  experiences.  Today  I 
am  sitting  in  my  prison  cell  with  no  liberty  to  come  and 
go,  and  yet  I  am  far  more  contented  than  in  the  days 
of  my  freedom.  In  prison,  with  only  poor,  coarse  food 
to  eat,  I  am  more  thankful  than  I  ever  was  out  in  the 
world  when  I  could  get  whatever  food  I  wanted.  In 
this  prison  cell,  only  nine  by  six  feet  in  size,  I  am 
happier  than  if  I  were  living  in  the  largest  house  I  ever 
saw  in  the  outer  world.  Whatever  agony  is  in  my 
heart  I  can  now  overcome.  No  matter  what  discom- 
forts I  endure  there  is  only  gladness  in  my  heart.  The 
joy  of  each  day  is  very  great.  These  things  are  all 
due  to  the  grace  and  divine  favour  of  Jesus  Christ. 

I  wish  to  speak  now  of  the  greatest  favour  of  all, — 
the  power  of  Christ,  which  cannot  be  measured  by  any 
of  our  standards.  I  have  been  more  than  twenty  years 
in  prison  since  I  was  nineteen  years  of  age,  and  during 
that  time  I  have  known  what  it  meant  to  endure  suf- 
fering, although  I  have  had  some  pleasant  times  as 
well.  I  have  passed  through  all  sorts  of  experiences, 
and  have  been  urged  often  to  repent  of  my  sins.  In 
spite  of  this,  however,  I  did  not  repent,  but  on  the  con- 
trary became  more  and  more  hardened.  And  then  by 
the  power  of  that  one  word  of  Christ's,  Father,  for- 
give  them,  for  they  know  not  wJiat  they  do,  my  un- 
speakably hardened  heart  was  changed,  and  I  repented 
of  all  my  crimes.    Such  power  is  not  in  man. 


\m 


CRUCIFIXION 

XXIX. 

CRUCIFIXION. 

I  want  to  speak  for  a  moment  about  some  thoughts 
I  have  concerning  crucifixion.  Even  in  Japan  there 
was  once  a  man,  by  the  name  of  Sogoro  Sakura,*  who 
endured  crucifixion  for  the  sake  of  others.  He  is  said 
to  have  given  his  Hfe  to  save  the  people  of  a  certain 
small  district  of  Chiba  province.  I  saw  the  story 
played  once  at  a  theatre,  and  even  I,  heartless  fellow 
that  I  was,  pitied  him  and  thought  it  was  a  cruel  thing 
to  have  put  him  to  death.  The  people  of  Chiba  have 
erected  a  shrine  and  have  made  him  into  a  kind  of  god. 

As  I  think  this  story  over  very  carefully  today,  it 
seems  to  me  that  if  a  man  is  worshipped  today  as  a 

•  The  story  of  Sogoro  Sakura  is  one  of  the  most  famous  in  all  the 
annals  of  Japan.  The  outline,  as  told  in  Mitford's  Tales  of  Old  Japan, 
is  as  follows:  A  certain  feudal  lord  taxed  his  farmers  so  outrageously 
that  the  chiefs  of  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  villages  held  council  and 
pftitioned  against  the  oppression.  Neither  the  local  officials  nor  the 
lord  himself,  paid  any  attention  to  the  grievance;  and  so  in  despair  one  of 
the  village  chiefs,  Sogoro  by  name,  determined  to  risk  his  life  in  an 
attempt  to  get  the  petition  into  the  hands  of  the  Shogun,  who  was  the 
head  of  all  the  feudal  lords  and  the  chief  executive  of  the  nation. 
Accordingly,  as  the  Shogun  was  proceeding  one  day  in  his  litter,  to 
worship  at  the  tombs  of  his  ancestors,  Sogoro  sprang  forward  from  his 
hiding  place,  broke  through  the  escort,  and  handed  the  petition  directly 
to  the  Shogun.  He  was  arrested  and  sentenced  to  death,  along  with  his 
wife  and  his  three  little  sons,  for  the  crime  of  appealing  to  the  Shogun 
over  the  head  of  his  own  feudal  chief.  The  unjust  taxes  were,  however, 
remitted. 

The  day  of  execution  came  on  the  ninth  day  of  the  second  month 
of  the  year  1644.  The  children  were  beheaded  before  their  parents' 
eyes,  and  then  Sogoro  and  his  wife  were  bound  to  two  crosses  and 
speared  to  death.  They  both  died  bravely,  sustaining  each  other  with 
the  thought  that  their  death  was  not  in  vain,  as  the  taxes  had  been 
remitted.  Sogoro,  however,  with  his  last  breath  cursed  his  lord  for 
having  punished  his  wife  and  children  as  well  as  himself,  and  said, 
"Let  my  lord  fence  himself  in  with  iron  walls,  yet  shall  my  spirit  burst 
through  them,  and  crush  his  bones,  as  a  reward  for  this  deed."  When 
he  was  dead,  his  head  turned  and  faced  the  castle,  and  afterwards  his 
ghost  and  that  of  his  wife  haunted  the  feudal  house,  and  wrought 
terrible  havoc.  The  lord's  wife  died  of  horror  at  the  awful  sights  she 
saw  in  the  night,  and  the  lord  himself  was  well-nigh  crazed.  Finally 
a  shrine  was  built  and  Sogoro  was  deified.  The  ghosts  then  ceased  to 
wander,  and  peace  reigned  once  more  in  the  castle. 

[83] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

god  because  long  ago  he  gave  his  hfe  for  a  few  people 
in  a  small  community ;  how  much  more  must  we  think 
of  Christ  who  gave  himself  for  the  sake  of  the  whole 
world?  To  be  sure  I  am  not  saying  these  things  to 
lessen  the  reputation  of  Sogoro  Sakura.  What  I  think 
of  him  is  this, — he  gave  his  life  in  a  most  chivalrous 
way,  and  he  was  undoubtedly  much  nobler  than  the 
ordinary  man ;  but  I  cannot  think  that  his  sacrifice  was 
the  deed  of  a  god.  He  gave  his  life  to  save  the  bodies 
of  men,  but  he  could  not  save  their  souls. 

As  I  saw  the  story  on  the  stage,  Sogoro,  when  he 
was  being  crucified,  turned  to  his  executioners,  who 
were  the  retainers  of  the  feudal  lord  who  had  ordered 
his  death,  and  said,  "Though  my  body  dies,  I  shall  still 
be  revenged  upon  you."  With  these  words  on  his  lips 
he  died.  Afterwards,  it  is  said,  his  ghost  haunted  the 
feudal  lord  and  his  retainers  and  harassed  them  ex- 
ceedingly. This  spirit  is  quite  characteristic  of  human 
nature. 

Christ,  on  the  other  hand,  came  to  save  men's  souls 
as  well  as  their  bodies.  Sogoro  suffered  the  death 
penalty  for  a  breach  of  the  law  of  that  day,  but  he 
left  a  curse  behind.  Jesus  broke  no  law,  but  his  sinless 
body  was  crucified  because  of  the  hatred  of  his  ene- 
mies. I  also  believe  that  Jesus  understood  beforehand 
that  his  death  was  to  be  a  ransom  for  sinners  that  they 
might  be  saved.  Therefore  there  was  no  hate  in  his 
heart  even  when  he  was  being  crucified;  and  he  left 
behind  him  only  words  of  compassion,  and  died  with 
a  peaceful  heart.  If  Japanese  people  make  a  god  out 
of  Sogoro,  why  do  they  not  believe  in  Jesus  Christ 
[84] 


CRUCIFIXION 

who  died  with  such  a  heart  of  love?     It  seems  a  very 
strange  thing. 

As  I  know  the  life  of  Sogoro  only  as  I  saw  it  on 
the  stage,  I  may  have  been  mistaken  in  some  of  the 
details  of  the  story. 


[85] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XXX. 

THE    OHARU    TRIAL. 

My  trial  for  the  murder  of  Oharu  dragged  on  for 
many  long  days  and  months,  and  I  was  finally  acquitted 
in  the  first  court  on  account  of  some  mistake.  I  was 
greatly  disheartened  about  this  for  a  time,  for  I  knew 
that  if  I  were  acquitted,  the  innocent  Komori  would 
suffer  the  penalty  of  the  crime.  I  was  so  distressed 
about  it  that  I  could  not  sleep  at  nights. 

By  this  time,  however,  I  had  faith  in  God,  and  so 
I  reasoned  it  out  in  this  way.  The  case  will  never  be 
settled  by  man's  power,  so  I  must  pray  day  and  night 
unceasingly  that  it  be  settled  by  the  power  of  God.  The 
lawyer  I  had  during  this  first  trial  was  not  satisfac- 
tory, but  during  the  appeal  *  I  had  a  new  lawyer,  Mr. 
Suzuki,  who  was  very  sympathetic.  Also  I  knew  that 
Miss  Macdonald  and  Miss  West  were  praying  for  me, 
and  I  believe  God  used  their  prayers  to  pierce  through 
the  heart  of  the  judge;  for  in  the  appeal  court  I  re- 
ceived the  fair  impartial  judgment  of  God.  This  was 
not  through  man's  power,  but  as  I  firmly  believe,  the 
power  of  God. 

•  According  to  Japanese  criminal  law,  the  procurator  as  well  as  the 
defendant  can  appeal  against  a  judgment  in  the  lower  court.  In  the 
case  of  Ishii,  the  procurator  appealed  against  the  acquittal  and  secured 
in  the  appeal  court  the  verdict  of  a  death  sentence. 


[86] 


PRISON  CHAPLAINS 
XXXI. 

PRISON    CHAPLAINS. 

While  the  trial  in  Tokyo  was  still  in  progress,  I  was 
sent  to  Yokohama  to  stand  my  trial  for  the  murder  I 
had  committed  there.  Two  or  three  days  before  Miss 
Macdonald  came  to  visit  me  there,  two  of  the  prison 
chaplains  sent  for  me  to  ask  about  my  birth  place  and 
the  religious  sect  to  which  I  belonged.  I  said  that  my 
parents  had  belonged  to  the  Shin  sect  of  Buddhism. 

"Then  of  course  you  belong  to  the  same  sect?"  asked 
one  of  the  priests. 

"No,"  I  replied,  "my  religion  is  different;  I  believe 
in  Christianity." 

"Tell  me,"  said  the  chaplain,  "why  have  you  turned 
to  the  Christian  God?" 

"From  the  most  sincere  motives,"  I  replied. 

The  chaplain  went  on,  "But  Christianity  is,  after 
all,  nothing  but  morals.  Now  Buddha  receives  you 
with  love  and  mercy,  and  so  there  is  more  reason  to 
be  thankful  to  him  than  to  Christ." 

"That  may  be  quite  true,"  I  replied,  "but  it  is  also 
true  that  there  are  love  and  mercy  in  Christ  as  well. 
What  you  have  just  said  may  be  true,  but  if  I  had 
experienced  the  love  and  benevolence  which  you  say 
are  in  the  heart  of  Buddha,  I  should  not  have  commit- 
ted the  crimes  I  have  done.  But  with  neither  love  nor 
mercy  in  my  own  heart  I  have  experienced  the  love 
and  mercy  of  Christ,  and  so  now  I  turn  to  the  Chris- 
tian God."  The  two  priests  laughed  and  ended  the 
[87] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

conversation  without  saying  anything  further.  As  I 
think  this  over,  I  am  reminded  of  the  proverb,  "Draw- 
ing water  to  your  own  rice  field,"  *  and  I  think  it  very 
aptly  describes  their  attitude  in  this  talk. 

A  little  later  on  I  was  called  to  the  office  of  the  head 
chaplain  and  asked  again  about  my  birthplace  and  reli- 
gion. I  replied  as  before  that  I  was  a  Christian.  The 
priest  then  asked  me,  "Has  your  heart  been  changed 
by  Christianity?"  and  I  said  that  it  had.  And  then, 
as  might  be  expected  of  one  in  his  position,  he  said, 
"Then  your  religion  is  an  admirable  thing.  There  is 
nothing  better  than  the  teaching  that  changes  a  man's 
heart."  Now  it  seems  to  me  that  this  chaplain  was 
a  man  to  be  very  greatly  respected. 

•  Arguing  to  put  the  other  in  the  wrong. 


[88] 


HAUNTED 

XXXII. 

HAUNTED. 

I  wish  to  speak  for  a  moment  about  the  awfulripss 
of  sin.  As  I  sat  in  my  prison  cell  I  was  taken  up  with 
many  things  during  the  day,  and  was  not  troubled  very 
much  about  my  sins,  but  when  night  came  and  every- 
one else  was  asleep,  I  would  waken  and  begin  to  think 
about  all  the  terrible  things  I  had  done.  This  was 
before  I  came  to  believe  in  Christ.  It  was  all  very 
terrible. 

One  night  one  of  my  victims,  with  a  very  pale  face, 
suddenly  appeared  by  my  pillow  and  called  me  by 
name,  and  then  began  to  stroke  my  face.  Awful 
criminal  though  I  was,  I  was  terrified,  but  when  I 
opened  my  eyes  I  found  it  was  only  a  dream.  The 
apparition,  however,  appeared  plainly  before  my  eyes. 
Even  after  I  was  fully  awake  my  hair  stood  on  end 
with  fright,  and  I  could  sleep  no  more  that  night.  It 
was  an  awful  experience.  After  I  came  to  believe  in 
Christ  this  thing  never  happened  again ;  although  even 
now  when  I  think  of  it,  the  hair  of  my  body  stands 
on  end. 

Another  night  when  everyone  but  myself  was 
asleep.  I  suddenly  heard  a  dreadful  groan  from  a 
nearby  cell;  and  during  the  night  it  was  repeated  sev- 
eral times.  It  was  so  fearsome  that  it  terrified  even 
me.  Such  sounds  continued  every  night  for  some  time, 
and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  man  who  was 
groaning  was  a  murderer  like  myself;  and  that  the 
[89] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

ghost  of  his  victim  had  come  to  terrify  him.  He  had 
probably  not  repented  of  his  sins  and  so  was  being 
haunted.  He  must  have  suffered  during  the  day  as 
well,  for  I  had  suffered  agony  both  day  and  night 
before  I  received  the  teachings  of  Christ.  I  knew  his 
distress  would  soon  cease,  however,  if,  like  me,  he 
would  cling  to  God's  hand ;  and  I  felt  sorry  that  there 
was  no  one  to  help  him. 


[90] 


THE  DIFFERENCES  BETWEEN  MEN 

XXXIII. 

THE  DIFFERENCES    BETWEEN    MEN. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  as  men's  faces  are  different, 
so  men's  hearts  are  different  also;  and  I  had  cause 
recently  to  realise  how  very  great  the  difference  is, 
between  one  man  and  another. 

On  the  eighth  day  of  April,  1918,  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  I  was  sitting  in  my  cell  reading,  when 
suddenly  two  officials  appeared  at  the  door.  One  was 
an  officer  of  this  prison,  but  the  other  was  unknown 
to  me,  and  so  I  merely  bowed  respectfully  when  they 
entered.  I  was  then  told  that  the  strange  official  was 
Governor  Arima  of  Kosuge  prison.  He  began  to  talk 
to  me.  "Ishii  San,"  he  said,  "I  hear  you  have  become 
a  believer  in  Christ?"  I  replied  that  I  had,  and  he 
said,  "Then  you  believe  that  you  have  been  saved  by 
Christ?"  I  told  him  without  reserve  what  I  had  come 
to  believe  about  the  love  and  mercy  of  Christ.  The 
governor  continued,  "Christ's  wonderful  power  be- 
longs not  only  to  past  days,  but  is  just  as  truly  here 
in  this  very  cell  now,  as  it  ever  was  long  ago.  The 
change  that  Christ  has  made  in  your  heart  is  as  great 
a  miracle  as  anything  that  ever  happened."  He  talked 
to  me  in  a  way  I  could  easily  understand ;  and  when  he 
was  leaving,  he  took  off  his  glove,  grasped  me  by  the 
hand  and  bade  me  good-bye  with  the  gentlest  and  kind- 
est words.  I  was  so  touched  that  I  could  not  keep 
back  my  tears  of  gratitude,  and  for  some  time  after 
[91] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

he  left  I  could  not  raise  my  head.  That  night  I  did 
not  sleep  a  wink.* 

Such  is  the  difference  among  men.  Here  am  I,  look- 
ing like  an  ordinary  man,  it  is  true,  but  having  the  heart 
of  a  beast.  There  is  Governor  Arima,  a  man  of  high 
rank  and  office,  deliberately  taking  off  his  glove  and 
grasping  the  hand  of  an  utterly  worthless  and  aban- 
doned criminal  like  myself;  and  thereby  showing  his 
heart  of  compassion.    What  a  contrast! 

My  lawyer  in  Yokohama,  Mr,  Fujita  by  name,  once 
grasped  me  by  the  hand  when  he  parted  from  me.  One 
of  my  lawyers  in  Tokyo,  Mr,  Suzuki,  has  also  the  same 
kind  heart.  They  have  shown  their  sympathy  in  many 
ways.  They  did  my  legal  work  for  me  without  any 
charge  whatever,  and  time  and  again  sent  special  food 
to  the  prison  for  me.  Dead  or  alive,  I  shall  never  for- 
get their  good  will. 

Between  the  heart  of  a  man  just  moderately  good 
and  my  own  there  is  a  very  great  difference.  How 
much  greater  then  is  the  contrast  between  myself  and 

*  Mr.  Arima  himself,  in  the  preface  to  the  Japanese  edition,  describes 
this  same  visit  as  follows:  "One  day  I  went  to  see  Ishii  in  his  cell  and 
found  him  sitting  bolt  upright  and  looking  very  serious.  My  first  glance 
showed  him  to  be  a  very  powerfully  built  fellow,  with  heavy  bushy  eye- 
brows and  a  large  flat  nose;  and  I  could  not  help  thinking  that  if  his 
heart  were  as  rough  as  his  exterior,  one  would  have  every  right  to 
fear  him.  But  his  eyes  told  a  different  story.  They  shone  with  a  quiet, 
beautiful  light,  his  cheeks  were  clear  and  healthy  looking  and  his  spirit 
was  brimming  over  with  gentleness.  My  heart  went  out  to  him  with  a 
great    tenderness. 

"As  I  knew  I  should  never  see  him  again  in  this  world's  life,  I  spoke 
a  few  words  of  encouragement  to  him,  and  at  parting  pledged  myself  to 
meet  him  in  the  next  world.  As  I  made  the  promise  I  involuntarily  put 
out  my  hand  and  grasped  his.      His  joy   was  beyond   words  to  describe. 

"The  day  he  was  taken  out  to  die  he  left  with  the  Buddhist  chaplain  a 
letter  which  he  had  begun  to  write  to  me  but  had  not  hni-Jied.  In  it  he 
expressed  his  appreciation  of  my  visit  and  said  that  his  soul  would  never 
forget  my  kindness  even  when  his  body  was  dead.  He  was  especially  moved 
by  the  handshake.  'I  have  lived  a  life  of  crime  for  more  than  twenty 
years,'  he  wrote,  'but  never  in  all  that  time  did  I  hear  of  a  prison 
governor  exi)ressing  his  sympathy  towards  a  criminal  bv  actually  taking 
off  his  glove  and  grasping  him  by  the  hand.  My  joy  can  be  expressed 
only  by  the  tears  of  gratitude  which  I  shed.'  " 

[92] 


MR.   SHIROSUKK   AKIMA 

Governor  of  Kosucc  I'risun,  Tokyo 


THE  DIFFERENCES  BETWEEN  MEN 

the  man  who  actively  tries  to  bring  happiness  to  oth- 
ers !  The  contrast  is  as  great  as  between  the  west  and 
the  east,  or  as  between  heaven  and  earth. 

As  I  think  it  all  out  now  I  see  that  I  am  worse  than 
a  beast.  The  cat  and  the  dog  are  of  some  use  to  man. 
The  wild  animal  of  the  mountain  is  useful  when  he 
is  dead  for  his  fur  and  flesh  if  for  nothing  else.  I 
have  been  not  only  of  no  use  to  anyone,  bi '  have  done 
untold  harm.  Dead  or  alive,  I  am  of  no  value  what- 
ever. I  can  compare  myself  to  nothing  but  a  tubercu- 
losis germ ;  I  have  been  but  a  plague  to  people.  I  feel 
ashamed  to  show  my  face.  If  there  were  only  a  hole 
somewhere  I  should  like  to  crawl  in  and  hide  myself. 
Nevertheless,  when  I  realise  that  I  have  lived  until 
today  to  receive  the  gracious  love  of  God,  there  is  noth- 
ing but  joy  in  my  heart.  Whatever  happens  to  me  in 
the  future,  I  desire  only  to  do  the  will  of  Jesus  Christ. 


im 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XXXIV. 

MY  HYMN. 

As  I  face  the  end  of  my  life  I  have  a  word  to  say. 
At  the  very  time  when  my  soul  was  lost  in  darkness 
because  of  my  crimes,  and  when  the  ceaseless  tortures 
of  Hell  were  about  to  come  upon  me,  I  came  in  touch 
with  Jesus  Christ  through  the  leading  of  the  two 
friends  I  have  mentioned;  and  so  entered  into  the  City 
of  God,  where  the  soul  cannot  perish.  My  daily  joy 
is  indescribable.  That  I  should  receive  such  gracious 
leading  from  people  I  had  never  met  before  is  some- 
thing I  can  never  forget.  I  want  to  express  here  my 
most  sincere  thanksgiving  to  them. 

The  following  words  are  so  full  of  the  heart  of 
compassion  and  so  well  describe  my  own  life  of  today 
that  I  wish  to  set  them  down  in  this  place : — 

Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea 
But  that  thy  blood  was  shed  for  me, 
And  that  Thou  bidd'st  me  come  to  Thee, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am,  and  waiting  not 
To  rid  my  soul  of  one  dark  blot. 
To  Thee,  whose  blood  can  cleanse  each  spot, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am,  though  tossed  about 
With  many  a  conflict,  many  a  doubt, 
Fightings   and   fears   within,   without, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 
[94] 


MY  HYMN 

Just  as  I  am,  poor,  wretched,  blind, 
Sight,  riches,  healing  of  the  mind. 
Yea,  all  I  need,  in  Thee  to  find, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am — Thy  love  unknown 
Has  broken  every  barrier  down — 
Now  to  be  Thine,  yea,  Thine  alone, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am,  Thou  wilt  receive. 
Wilt  welcome,  pardon,  cleanse,  relieve; 
Because  Thy  promise  I  believe, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am,  of  that  free  love, 
The  breadth,  length,  depth  and  height  to  prove, 
Here  for  a  season,  then  above, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

(Then  follows  a  poem  of  his  own  making,  the  first 
syllable  of  each  line  corresponding  to  the  successive 
syllables  of  the  Japanese  alphabet,  which  are  forty-eight 
in  number. — Translator's  note.) 

At  last  my  sins  are  revealed 

And  I  sit  here  in  prison. 

My  heart  is  filled  with  pain  and  sorrow, 

And  day  by  day  I  suffer  without  rest. 

Is  there  a  God?  I  cry, 

But  there  is  no  answer. 

And  I  am  sunk  in  anguish. 

Soon  will  the  righteous  judgment  come  upon  me. 
For  my  sins  are  fearful 
Beyond  comparison. 
I  am  resolved  to  accept  my  doom. 
But  when  the  day  of  parting  comes, 
I  must  leave  all  I  have  behind  me, 
[95] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

And  there  is  nothing  in  the  after  world 
To  trust  for  peace  of  soul. 

There  is  no  day  when  I  forget  my  agony. 

Asleep  or  awake 

My  hand  gropes 

But  reaches  nowhere, 

And  I  am  almost  mad. 

My  life  has  no  meaning, 

And  my  fear  grows  more  and  more 

As  I  recall  my  sins. 

What  will  the  next  world  do  to  me? 

My  body  is  torn  in  pieces  at  the  thought. 

My  pain  and  anguish 

Grow  greater  every  day 

And  I  am  sick  with  suffering. 

Is  there  no  wiping  out  of  sins? 

If  there  is  a  God  who  thinks  of  pity 

I  cry  to  Him  in  my  anguish. 

"Listen  to  the  prayer  of  my  soul, 

Take  me  to  the  Heavenly  City 

Where  my  soul  shall  not  perish; 

Make  me  to  meet  my  beloved  father  and  mother  I' 

Then  joy  is  revealed  to  me. 
"Behold !  Christ  is  here ;  be  not  afraid ! 
You  shall  see  your  father  and  your  mother, 
And  you  shall  be  with  them 
In  the  City  of  God. 
You  shall  not  die 
But  you  shall  live  in  glory, 
And  every  day  and  all  the  days 
You  shall  be  glad. 
You  shall  taste  the  joys 
Your  heart  desires, 

The  pleasures  that  are  beyond  the  world." 
Today  I  have  entered  into  the  City. 
[96] 


MY  HYjMN 

My  name  is  defiled, 

My  body  dies  in  prison, 

But  my  soul  purified 

Today  returns  to  the  City  of  God. 

I  have  written  this  poem  here  in  prison  to  explain 
how  I  came  to  trust  my  fear  and  anguish  to  Christ 
and  was  rescued  by  His  love.  I  ask  you  to  be  lenient 
with  its  faults. 


[97] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

ably  get  the  man  unawares,  provided  he  took  precau- 
tions to  guard  himself  from  an  unexpected  attack. 

For  the  sake  of  the  future  I  want  to  tell  how  I  man- 
aged to  carry  a  sword  two  feet  long  and  keep  it  suc- 
cessfully hidden.  You  will  remember  that  when  I 
was  wandering  about  the  country  I  carried  a  cake 
pedlar's  outfit  with  me.  In  the  under  part  of  the 
stand  I  carried,  I  scooped  out  a  groove  just  long  enough 
and  deep  enough  to  hold  the  sword,  and  over  this  I 
fitted  a  false  bottom,  which  entirely  hid  the  sword  after 
it  was  inserted.  As  for  the  short  dagger  that  I  car- 
ried in  the  day  time,  I  bound  it  firmly  against  the  inner 
side  of  my  leg,  and  wore  over  it  the  tight  trouser  worn 
by  labouring  men,  so  that  neither  the  sword  nor  the 
dagger  was  noticed  by  the  police  when  I  was  examined. 


[100] 


PART  TWO:    A  DIARY  OF 
IMPRESSIONS 


THANKSGIVING  FOR  ILLNESS 


THANKSGIVING    FOR   ILLNESS. 

May  26,  1918. 

I  have  been  very  ill  since  morning  with  a  high  fever 
and  have  been  suffering  a  great  deal  of  pain.  The 
warder  in  charge  has  been  very  kind,  and  could  not 
have  done  more  for  me  had  I  been  his  own  child.  This 
is  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  have  ever  had  an  ill- 
ness of  this  kind. 

May  21. 

I  have  been  taken  with  fever  and  chills,  and  am  a 
good  deal  worse  today.  Miss  Macdonald  came  pur- 
posely to  see  me,  but  unfortunately  at  that  very  time 
my  temperature  was  so  high  that  I  was  unable  to  re- 
ceive her  visit,  although  I  greatly  desired  to  hear  her 
gracious  teaching.  It  was  probably  my  lack  of  faith 
that  made  it  impossible  to  overcome  my  illness,  so  that 
I  was  deprived  of  seeing  Miss  Macdonald.  It  was  no 
doubt  God's  reproof  to  me,  and  I  must  learn  to  fear 
and  honour  Him  more.  This  illness  has  brought  me 
much  nearer  God,  and  I  am  very  grateful. 


[103] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
II. 

THE   KINDNESS   OF   A   JAILOR. 

May  28. 

This  morning  early,  while  I  was  still  in  bed,  a 
warder  by  the  name  of  Wakana,  who  had  charge  of 
me  for  nearly  two  years,  but  whose  work  is  now  else- 
where, came  to  inquire  for  me.  He  has  always  been 
very  kind  to  me,  and  today  he  came  purposely  to  see 
me  because  he  heard  I  was  ill.  In  the  afternoon  the 
vice-governor  opened  my  cell  door  and  very  kindly 
inquired  for  me. 

During  the  night  I  was  in  such  pain  that  I  did  not 
sleep  a  wink.  I  kept  my  eyes  closed  but  my  heart  was 
not  asleep,  and  I  knew  everything  that  was  going  on. 
About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  night-warder, 
Kajiwara  by  name,  thrust  his  hand  through  the  hole 
in  the  door  and  quietly  felt  my  head  to  see  if  I  was  still 
feverish.  Without  wakening  me,  as  he  thought,  he 
was  trying  to  find  out  if  my  fever  was  abating.  I  was 
very  much  touched  by  his  thought  fulness. 

May  29. 

The  vice-governor  came  again  and  inquired  for  me 
with  very  kind  words.  Every  day  different  officials 
visit  me  and  the  warder  in  charge  comes  time  and 
again  to  attend  to  me.  The  principal  keeper  and  a 
chief  warder  by  the  name  of  Wada,  have  also  come 
to  see  me  today,  and  the  vice-governor  looked  in  a 
second  time.  He  has  come  three  times  in  less  than 
[10*] 


THE  KINDNESS  OF  A  JAILOR 

a  week,  and  I  take  it  that  the  governor's  thoughtful- 
ness  also  is  expressed  by  these  visits.  I  cannot  say 
in  words  how  much  all  this  kindness  touches  me.  The 
chief  chaplain,*  who  was  recently  transferred  from 
Kosuge  prison  to  this  place,  comes  from  time  to  time 
to  see  me,  although  he  knows  that  I  am  a  believer  in 
Christ.  During  my  illness  he  has  visited  me  twice, 
and  has  been  very  kind.  I  am  most  grateful,  but  I 
want  to  say  here  that  no  matter  who  comes  and  speaks 
kindly  to  me,  I  shall  never  believe  in  anyone  but 
Christ. 

*  All    prison   chaplains   in   Japan   are   Buddhist   priests   belonging  to   the 
Shin  sect. 


[106] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
III. 

MERCIES. 

While  I  have  been  ill,  I  could  not  help  wondering 
who  would  have  come  to  see  me  had  I  been  ill  in  the 
world  outside.  That  anyone  like  myself,  a  criminal 
of  the  deepest  dye,  should  be  treated  as  kindly  as  I  am, 
touches  me  so  deeply  that  I  cannot  help  weeping  tears 
of  gratitude.  If  this  had  been  in  ancient  times,  what 
would  have  become  of  me?  Even  with  the  same  death 
penalty,  I  should  have  been  cruelly  exposed  to  the 
public  gaze,  and  have  been  either  beheaded  or  put  to 
death  by  crucifixion,  or  in  some  other  inhuman  way. 
But  I  am  thankful  that  now  no  show  is  made  of  an 
execution.  This  is  one  of  the  mercies  that  belong  to 
the  present  age,  for  which  I  am  profoundly  grateful. 

Had  I  lived  in  days  gone  by. 
What  would  have  been  my  end? 
How  thankful  I  ought  to  be 
For  the  mercies  of  today !  * 

During  my  illness,  my  lawyer  from  Yokohama,  Mr, 
Fujita  by  name,  has  come  purposely  to  enquire  for 
me.  Before  my  Yokohama  trial  took  place  he  visited 
me  at  the  prison  four  different  times  and  did  every- 
thing for  me  without  any  fee.  Even  after  the  trial 
was  over,  he  called  on  me  twice,  and  since  I  have  been 
back  in  Tokyo  prison,  he  has  come  twice  to  see  me  here. 
As  long  as  I  live  I  shall  remember  this  kindness.  Yes, 
and  after  I  die  I  shall  not  forget  it. 

•A  short  Japanese  poem  of  thirty-three  syllables  composed  by  himself. 

[106] 


CONCERNING  LAWYERS 

IV. 

CONCERNING    LAWYERS. 

June  2. 

I  am  very  happy  today  because  my  fever  has  prac- 
tically gone,  and  I  feel  quite  well.  My  very  kind 
Tokyo  lawyer,  Mr.  Suzuki,  who  had  charge  of  my 
case  when  it  went  to  the  appeal  court,  was  here  today. 
He  enquired  very  sympathetically  about  my  illness, 
and  I  feel  very  grateful  to  him. 

Out  in  the  world  I  was  not  at  all  the  sort  of  person 
who  could  have  associated  with  a  man  like  Mr.  Suzuki ; 
and  I  wept  tears  of  gratitude  to  think  he  would  come 
time  after  time  to  see  me  in  prison  and  express  his 
sympathy  for  me.  He  even  sent  food  to  me  at  various 
times,  sometimes  twice  daily,  and  again  three  times  a 
day  during  one  period. 

There  are  no  doubt  many  kinds  of  lawyers  in  Tokyo, 
different  in  outward  appearance,  and  also  different  in 
heart.  Even  with  the  same  case  in  hand,  different  law- 
yers would,  I  suppose,  act  very  differently.  For  exam- 
ple, the  lawyer  who  had  charge  of  my  case  in  the  first 
court  did  not  come  even  once  to  the  prison  to  see  me, 
either  before  or  during  the  trial.  I  suppose  that  is 
quite  usual.  A  lawyer  called  by  the  court  to  defend 
a  man  receives  practically  nothing  for  his  services; 
and  when  there  is  no  money  in  it,  he  cannot  be  expected 
to  take  time  to  find  out  whether  an  innocent  man  is 
going  to  be  hanged  or  not.  It  even  costs  something  to 
come  to  prison  to  visit  the  accused.  I  suppose  this  is 
[107] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

the  way  in  which  an  ordinary  man  would  look  on  it. 
Had  I  been  able  to  pay  this  lawyer  well,  he  would  no 
doubt  have  come  quite  willingly  scores  of  times.  As 
the  proverb  says:    "Even  Hell  yields  to  money." 

What  about  my  lawyer  in  the  appeal  trial  ?  Without 
caring  that  he  got  nothing  for  his  trouble,  Mr.  Suzuki 
thoroughly  investigated  my  case  for  more  than  a  year ; 
and  took  infinite  pains  not  only  to  prevent  an  innocent 
man  from  being  hanged,  but  also  to  save  my  soul 
through  getting  the  facts  revealed.  On  this  account 
I  received  a  perfectly  fair  trial  and  sentence  in  the 
appeal  court,  which  was  the  only  thing  I  desired. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  speak  here  of  the  joy  that  must 
have  come  to  Komori  and  his  family  on  account  of  his 
acquittal,  which  was  made  possible  through  my  con- 
demnation. 

This  is  all  due  to  the  fact  that  God  dwelt  in  this 
lawyer's  heart,  which  was  filled  with  love.  The  dif- 
ference between  these  lawyers  simply  shows  the  con- 
trast between  the  hearts  in  which  the  love  of  God 
dwells  and  the  hearts  of  others.  Where  God's  love  has 
not  entered,  an  ordinary  man  hates  bad  people.  I  sup- 
pose that  was  the  case  with  my  first  lawyer.  Where 
Christ's  love  is,  there  men  will  be  kind  to  others.  His 
love  does  not  turn  away  from  the  deeper  sin,  but  only 
yearns  the  more  over  it. 


[108] 


MR.    FUJIYA  SUZUKI,    M.    P. 

The  lawvtr  to  whom  Ishii  refers  constantly,  who  conducted  his 
defence  durinK  the  Appeal  Court,  and  who  was  so  unfailingly 
kind  to  Ishii  while  he  was  in  prison. 


LESSONS  LEARNED  FROM  SUFFERING 
V. 

LESSONS    LEARNED    FROM    SUFFERING. 

June  3. 

I  am  quite  recovered  from  my  illness,  and  today 
the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  read  over  the  hymn  I  like 
so  well,  "Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea,"  and  then  give 
thanks  to  God. 

I  have  learned  so  much  from  my  recent  illness  that 
I  wish  to  write  down  some  of  my  impressions.  Since 
I  have  been  able  to  remember  anything,  I  do  not  re- 
call ever  having  been  ill  in  bed  as  long  as  three  days 
at  a  time,  and  I  have  known  nothing  of  suffering  due 
to  illness.  On  this  account  I  have  been  very  unkind 
to  sick  persons,  not  only  to  those  who  had  no  con- 
nection with  me,  but  even  to  my  own  wife.  Sometimes 
when  she  had  a  headache  and  said  she  could  not  get 
up,  I  thought  it  was  nonsense  to  stay  in  bed  for  such 
a  litde  thing,  and  would  pull  the  bedclothes  away  from 
her  and  compel  her  to  rise.  This  I  have  done  over  and 
over  again.  She  often  wept  at  my  cruelty,  but  I  had 
not  the  slightest  sympathy.  I  had  never  been  ill  my- 
self and  could  not  sympathise  with  the  suffering  of 
others. 

However,  through  God's  discipline  I  have  myself 
felt  what  suffering  means;  and  I  count  this  sickness 
of  mine  one  of  God's  mercies  towards  me,  so  that  I 
have  nothing  but  thankfulness  in  my  heart. 

[109] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
VI. 

A    SPARROW    TEACHES    A    LESSON. 

June  9. 

Today  being  Sunday  we  were  obliged  to  clean  up 
our  cells,  and  as  I  was  working  away  at  mine  I  heard 
outside  my  window  a  loud  "chirp,  chirp,  chirp!"  of  a 
bird;  and  looking  out,  I  saw  a  whole  flock  of  sparrows 
gathered  together  on  the  limb  of  a  tree.  They  stretched 
out  their  little  necks  as  if  looking  at  something  below 
them,  and  were  making  a  great  chatter.  I  thought  this 
was  rather  strange,  and  looked  out  to  see  what  could 
be  the  matter.  Apparently  a  cat  or  a  dog  had  appeared 
beneath  the  tree,  and  the  first  little  bird  to  see  it  had 
instantly  chirped  a  warning  to  his  comrades.  Then 
I  understood  that  the  sparrow  had  called  out,  "An 
enemy,  an  enemy,  an  enemy!" 

I  was  greatly  impressed  with  this.  The  little  spar- 
row put  me  to  shame,  as  I  saw  that  even  the  birds 
warn  one  another  of  impending  danger,  and  mutually 
protect  themselves.  What  have  I  ever  done  to  care 
for  my  kind? 

It  is  said  that  man  is  the  crown  of  creation,  but  what 
have  I  ever  done  in  all  my  life  to  be  so  regarded?  To 
be  sure  I  have  the  face  and  shape  of  a  man,  and  I  am 
clothed  with  the  skin  of  a  human  being,  but  in  reality 
I  am  inferior  to  a  sparrow.  The  sparrow  seeks  to 
protect  his  kind,  but  I  have  done  nothing  but  cause 
[110] 


A  SPARROW  TEACHES  A  LESSON 

untold  trouble  to  mine.  So  long  as  I  have  had  pleas- 
ure myself  I  have  not  minded  the  sorrows  of  others, 
and  have  been  absolutely  selfish.  I  have  nothing  to 
say  for  myself. 


[111] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
VII. 

THE   STORY   OF    THE    MINER. 

June  12. 

I  was  reading  today  a  story  in  a  book  called,  "From 
Death  to  Life,"  and  I  found  it  so  interesting  that  I  read 
it  over  and  over  again.  It  fitted  my  own  experience 
so  well  that  I  wish  to  copy  it  down  here. 

The  story  in  brief  is  this: — A  very  rough  miner 
was  found  in  a  dying  condition  away  off  by  himself 
in  a  one-roomed  cabin  in  the  mountains.  A  lady 
brought  him  food  and  tried  to  tell  him  about  the  love 
of  God,  but  he  cursed  her  to  her  face.  After  attempt- 
ing for  some  time  to  help  him,  she  decided  not  to  go 
near  him  again;  and  that  night  when  she  was  praying 
with  her  children  she  omitted  the  miner's  name  from 
her  prayer.  Her  little  boy  Charlie  said  to  her,  "Have 
you  given  the  bad  man  up.  Mother  ?  God  hasn't  given 
him  up,  has  He?" 

This  set  the  mother  thinking,  and  she  decided  to  try 
again.  She  took  a  little  neighbour  girl  with  her,  and 
went  to  the  door  of  the  cabin  once  more.  The  man 
cursed  as  usual,  but  hearing  the  child's  voice,  he  re- 
called a  little  girl  of  his  own  who  had  died,  and  asked 
her  to  come  into  the  cabin.  The  child  knelt  down  and 
prayed  a  simple  prayer  which  touched  the  rough  miner 
and  brought  him  to  repentance. 


[112] 


THE  TRUE  HEART  OF  A  CHILD 

vni. 

THE  TRUE   HEART  OF  A   CHILD. 

As  I  read  this  story  I  was  struck  by  the  thought  that 
the  Spirit  of  Christ  Hved  in  the  hearts  of  the  two  httle 
children.  The  mother  had  given  up  the  wicked  miner 
in  despair,  but  httle  Charlie's  words,  "God  has  not 
given  him  up?''  were  a  rebuke.  In  these  few  words  is 
contained  the  heart  of  faith.  Look  at  the  little  girl's 
prayer  by  the  bedside  of  the  sick  man !  "Lord  Jesus ! 
This  poor  man  is  ill;  he  has  lost  his  little  girl  and  is 
very  sad.  I  am  so  sorry  for  him  and  he's  sorry  too, 
and  I  want  you  to  help  him.  Amen."  The  words  are 
few  but  they  reveal  an  unshaken  faith.  I  feel  as  if 
the  incident  had  taken  place  before  my  very  eyes. 
The  real  faith  of  the  woman's  little  son  gave  her 
courage  to  try  once  more  to  soften  the  rough  man's 
heart,  with  the  result  that  he  repented. 

Jesus  said :  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Whosoever  sJtall 
not  receive  tJie  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child  shall 
in  no  wise  enter  therein.  This  means  that  we  must 
receive  the  love  of  God  with  the  same  simplicity  and 
truthfulness  as  a  little  child. 

I  began  to  pray :  "Lord  Jesus  Christ !  By  thy  great 
power,  make  my  heart  like  a  little  child's,  and  help  me 
to  believe  that  all  power  dwells  in  Thee.     Amen." 


[113] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
IX. 

THOSE  TWO  FRIENDS  OF  MINE. 

Now  I  want  to  say  something  about  how  the  mother 
led  the  miner  to  know  Christ.  He  was  unspeakably 
bad,  but  was  finally  brought  to  repentance  by  the 
earnestness  of  the  mother.  This  struck  me  as  if  I 
had  been  pierced  by  a  five-inch  nail. 

Now  my  heart  was  very  much  worse  than  that  of 
the  miner.  How  did  it  happen  that  so  bad  a  man  as 
I  came  to  believe  in  Jesus'  heart  of  love,  and  v/as  saved 
from  destruction  by  clinging  to  His  holy  hand?  As 
the  miner  was  led  through  the  woman  who  went  to  see 
him,  so  was  my  soul  led  to  God  by  the  two  friends  who 
visited  me.  The  man  in  the  story  was  sick  and  dying, 
and  although  I  have  no  bodily  sickness,  my  days  are 
also  numbered,  and  I  too  must  soon  face  death.  With 
hearts  of  love,  these  two  friends  led  me  out  of  the 
path  of  destruction  into  the  way  of  Christ. 

How  long  did  they  toil  for  me !  The  woman  in  the 
story  spent  weeks  on  the  miner,  but  that  was  nothing 
in  comparison  to  the  time  and  energy  my  two  friends 
spent  on  me.  I  did  not  even  believe  in  my  father's 
religion,  and  still  less  did  I  know  anything  about 
Christianity.  One  of  our  proverbs  says,  "You  hate 
what  you  have  not  tasted,"  and  this  was  how  I  felt 
about  Christianity.  For  more  than  two  long  years 
they  took  turns  in  coming  to  visit  me,  minding  neither 
the  snow  of  winter  nor  the  heat  of  summer.  I  do 
not  remember  how  many  scores  of  times  they  came. 
[114] 


THOSE  TWO  FRIENDS  OF  MINE 

They  were  determined  to  save  me  from  destruction, 
and  with  earnestness  and  kindness  they  led  me.  A 
prison  is  not  a  very  pleasant  place  even  to  hear  about, 
but  they  actually  came  to  the  prison  to  visit  me.  Like 
the  miner,  I  could  not  understand  at  first,  but  at  last, 
through  the  zeal  of  these  two  friends,  I  came  to  be- 
lieve. I  cannot  begin  to  express  the  hundredth  part 
of  the  gratitude  I  feel  for  the  good  will  they  showed 
me.  They  are  the  parents  of  my  new  life,  and  I  can 
never  forget. 

"Lord  Jesus  Christ!  As  I  have  repented  of  my 
sins  before  God  through  Thy  power,  so  may  many 
other  sinners  also  be  brought  to  repentance  through 
the  leading  of  those  two  friends  of  mine.    Amen." 


[115] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
X. 

PARADOXES. 

June  1 6. 

Today  being  Sunday,  I  was  reading  my  New  Testa^ 
ment  and  came  across  these  words: — 

As  deceivers,  and  yet  true; 

As  unknown,  and  yet  well  known; 

As  dying,  and  behold,  we  live; 

As  chastened,  and  not  killed; 

As  sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing; 

As  poor,  yet  making  many  rich; 

As  having  nothing,  and  yet  possessing  all  things. 

Some  time  ago  Miss  West  brought  these  words  to  me 
as  a  message  from  Miss  Macdonald,  and  I  cannot  but 
think  how  very  appropriate  they  are  to  my  own  case. 

For  example, — As  deceivers,  and  yet  true.  These 
words  describe  my  first  trial.  I  revealed  everything 
at  court  because  I  had  repented,  but  I  was  not  believed 
either  by  the  judge  or  by  the  lawyers.  They  all  said 
that  Ishii  was  trying  to  deceive  people.  I  seemed  a 
deceiver,  but  I  really  told  the  truth. 

As  unknown,  and  yet  well  knozvn.  These  words 
apply  to  my  second  trial.  I  could  not  make  it  known 
myself  that  I  had  committed  the  crime,  but  in  the  end 
it  was  shown  by  other  evidence  than  my  own  confes- 
sion that  I  was  really  guilty. 

As  dying,  and  behold,  we  live.  People  will  say  that 
[116] 


PARADOXES 

Ishii  is  practically  dead  already  because  he  has  received 
a  death  sentence.  But  this  is  not  true.  Though  I  seem 
to  others  to  be  already  dead,  I  am  really  alive  in  Christ. 

As  chastened,  and  not  killed.  Many  vc^ill  think  that 
Ishii  is  enduring  great  suffering  in  prison  and  that 
before  long  he  will  be  put  to  death.  But  this  is  not 
true  either ;  my  soul  cannot  be  put  to  death  by  anyone 
but  God,  and  I  shall  never  die,  because  I  am  in  the 
hands  of  Christ.  I  have  received  no  chastening  from 
others,  and  although  my  present  life  seems  one  of 
great  torture,  God  will  not  let  me  die. 

As  sorrowing,  yet  always  rejoicing.  People  will 
say  that  I  must  have  a  very  sorrowful  heart  because 
I  am  daily  awaiting  the  execution  of  the  death  sen- 
tence. This  is  not  the  case.  I  feel  neither  sorrow  nor 
distress  nor  any  pain.  Locked  in  a  prison  cell  six  feet 
by  nine  in  size,  I  am  infinitely  happier  than  I  was  in 
the  days  of  my  sinning  when  I  did  not  know  God. 
Day  and  night  without  ceasing  for  a  moment  I  am 
talking  with  Jesus  Christ. 

As  poor,  yet  making  many  rich.  This  certainly  does 
not  apply  to  the  evil  life  I  led  before  I  repented.  But 
perhaps  in  the  future,  someone  out  in  the  world  may 
hear  that  the  most  desperate  villain  that  ever  lived 
repented  of  his  sins  and  was  saved  by  the  power  of 
Christ,  and  so  may  come  to  repent  also.  Then  it  may 
be,  that  though  I  am  poor  myself,  I  shall  be  able  to 
make  many  rich. 

As  having  nothing,  and  yet  possessing  all  things. 
Looked  at  from  another  person's  standpoint,  I  surely 
seem  to  possess  nothing.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  God 
has  given  me  far  more  than  I  need  for  my  daily  life. 

[in] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

In  the  days  before  I  knew  God,  nothing  in  the  world 
seemed  to  be  good  enough  for  me.  In  the  winter 
time,  when  one  should  be  thankful  for  any  clothes  at 
all,  I  was  forever  dissatisfied.  I  always  wanted  better 
clothes  than  I  had,  and  grumbled  to  my  wife  because 
they  were  not  better,  I  am  ashamed  to  confess  it  now, 
but  the  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  so  long  as  I  had  my 
own  way,  I  did  not  care  what  happened  to  other  people. 
I  felt  no  shame  whatever,  and  only  cared  for  outward 
appearances.  I  should  have  been  satisfied  with  my 
daily  food,  provided  it  was  sufficient  to  nourish  me,  but 
I  always  grumbled,  and  scolded  my  wife  because  she 
did  not  provide  something  better.  I  did  not  understand 
then  that  one  food  is  as  good  as  another  after  it  has 
gone  three  inches  past  the  throat.  Even  when  I  had 
a  home  of  my  own,  I  was  envious  of  every  house  I  saw 
that  was  the  least  bit  better  than  mine.  I  wanted 
money  but  would  not  work  for  it,  and  so  committed 
crime.  But  what  about  today?  The  ordinary  man  in 
prison  suffers  day  and  night  and  weeps  in  his  misery; 
but  I  do  not  feel  any  discomforts  at  all,  and  my  heart 
overflows  with  happiness.  As  I  said  before,  other 
people  may  think  that  I  possess  nothing,  but  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  I  have  everything.  Earthly  things  disappear 
with  the  using,  but  I  really  own  the  things  that  I  have 
received  from  God.  Much  as  I  may  use  them  they  do 
not  disappear,  for  there  is  no  end  to  them. 

In  what  I  have  said  here,  I  am  not  referring  to 
physical  life  and  death.  The  problem  of  this  world's 
life  and  death  never  occurs  to  me  now.  The  only  thing 
that  concerns  me  is  the  life  and  death  of  the  soul. 

[118] 


BICYCLES 
XI. 

BICYCLES. 

June  1 8. 

Today  I  learned  a  lesson  from  a  bicycle.  I  have 
never  ridden  one  myself,  but,  as  I  have  seen  people 
hurrying-  to  and  fro  on  them,  I  have  often  thought 
what  convenient  things  they  are.  It  was  only  recently, 
however,  that  I  realised  how  difficult  it  is  to  learn  to 
ride.  Lately  I  have  been  watching  some  of  the  warders 
practising  in  the  prison  yard,  as  they  do  whenever  the 
weather  is  fine. 

Today  I  learned  that  before  a  person  is  able  to  make 
his  way  through  the  crowds  and  reach  his  destination 
without  accident,  he  must  practise  with  great  diligence ; 
and  in  the  same  way  I  see  that  I  must  put  untold  labour 
into  my  own  task  if  I  am  ever  to  reach  the  place  for 
which  I  have  started. 

Also  if  one  firmly  believes  that  he  can  learn  to  ride 
if  he  practises  and  does  not  mind  the  trouble  it  takes, 
he  will  be  able  to  accomplish  his  task  in  the  end.  He 
will  succeed  if  he  has  faith.  That  is  the  point.  I 
learned  from  the  parable  of  the  bicycle  that  no  one  can 
attain  his  end  unless  he  puts  infinite  toil  into  the 
adventure. 

But  even  if  we  do  make  progress,  the  life  span  of  this 
world  is  not  more  than  forty  or  fifty  years.  I  have 
come  to  see,  therefore,  that  the  goal  towards  which 
we  must  set  our  faces  is  the  eternal  life  of  the  soul,  and 
not  merely  the  short  life  of  this  world.  I  am  resolved 
[1191 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

to  mount  the  bicycle  which  will  carry  me  thither.  It  is 
none  other  than  the  love  of  Christ.  Through  this  any 
one  may  reach  the  destination  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven.  As  Jesus  said,  Him  tlmt  cometh  to  me,  I 
will  in  no  wise  cast  out. 

I  also  believe  that  neither  with  a  bicycle  nor  in  our 
soul's  progress  can  we  accomplish  everything  at  a 
single  bound.  If  we  give  up  practising  when  we  think 
we  have  become  a  bit  expert,  suddenly  some  unfore- 
seen thing  happens ;  we  hurriedly  mount  and  start  off, 
but  before  we  know  it  an  accident  occurs  and  we  have 
plunged  headlong  into  the  moat,*  bicycle  and  all.  And 
so  with  our  faith  in  Christ.  Once  believing,  we  must 
not  think  we  have  accomplished  everything,  but  we 
must  go  on  practising  our  faith  till  the  very  end  of  our 
earthly  life. 

•  Many    of    the    cities    of    Japan    are    surrounded    and    intersected    by 
moats,  a  relic  of  old  feudal  days. 


[120] 


THE  HAUNTED  WELL 

xn. 

THE    HAUNTED    WELL. 

June  20. 

I  was  taking  my  daily  walk  in  the  prison  yard  today 
when  I  noticed  an  old  well  by  the  side  of  the  path,  and 
it  at  once  reminded  me  of  a  very  silly  superstition  I 
heard  about  thirty-five  years  ago  when  I  was  a  child 
at  home.  It  shows,  however,  the  love  of  a  father  for 
his  child,  and  so  I  shall  tell  the  story. 

In  my  native  city  of  Nagoya  was  a  street  called 
Nishiwaki  Machi  where  I  lived  with  my  father  and 
my  mother  when  I  was  about  ten  years  old.  About  a 
mile  from  my  home  was  a  temple  called  Yakushiji,  at 
the  back  of  which  was  an  old  well.  There  was  no 
thoroughfare  past  the  well,  but  it  could  be  reached 
easily. 

Now  about  this  time  it  was  said  that  a  ghost  haunted 
the  rear  of  the  temple  and  every  night  at  midnight 
terrible  groans  were  heard.  People  called  it  the 
"groaning  ghost,"  and  after  nightfall  no  woman  or 
child  dared  pass  near  the  place.  Everyone  from  far 
and  near  talked  about  the  ghost  and  there  was  a  great 
clatter  about  it.  Some  people  set  out  to  find  out  just 
where  the  groans  came  from,  and  they  discovered  that 
they  issued  from  the  old  well.  One  day  in  broad  day- 
light a  number  of  people  gathered  there  and  peeped 
in,  but  the  well  was  so  deep  and  dark  that  they  could 
not  see  the  bottom.  They  lit  a  lantern  and  let  it  down, 
but  even  then  they  could  see  nothing.     The  well  had 

[m] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

not  been  used  for  a  long  time  and  was  filled  with  rub- 
bish up  to  the  water  line.  Seeing  this,  some  super- 
stitious person  suggested  that  the  god  of  the  well  had 
been  insulted  and  that  his  curse  rested  upon  it.  It 
was  agreed  that  the  temple  priests  should  be  asked  to 
pray  that  the  curse  be  removed,  and  every  day  at  noon 
the  people  assembled  at  the  well  for  council.  The 
groaning,  however,  continued  at  midnight  as  usual. 

One  day,  a  little  friend  of  mine  said  to  me,  "Let's 
go  and  take  a  look  at  the  haunted  well."  I  was  glad 
enough  to  look  at  any  frightful  object,  so  we  went  off 
together  and  peeped  in.  As  we  were  leaning  over  the 
railing  that  surrounded  the  well,  it  suddenly  gave  way 
and  my  nine-year-old  friend,  Yasujiro  by  name,  tum- 
bled in.  The  alarm  was  given,  and  the  people  of  the 
neighbourhood  hurried  to  the  spot  and  raised  a  great 
fuss,  but  no  one  made  the  slightest  effort  to  rescue  the 
child.  Suddenly  someone  rushed  off  to  tell  the  boy's 
father,  who  came  at  once,  fixed  up  a  ladder  long  enough 
to  reach  to  the  bottom,  let  it  down  and  descended  with 
a  lantern  in  his  hand.  The  child  was  found  in  a  faint- 
ing condition,  but  no  serious  harm  had  been  done. 

The  people  then  inquired  if  there  was  not  something 
unusual  about  the  appearance  of  the  well,  and  the 
father  went  down  a  second  time  to  investigate.  A  black 
cat  was  discovered,  all  skin  and  bone  and  more  dead 
than  alive,  huddled  on  a  ledge  far  down.  In  this  way 
the  cause  of  the  ridiculous  superstition  was  unearthed. 
At  that  time  every  person  in  the  neighbourhood  from 
my  father  down  was  superstitious.  Of  course  it  is 
perfectly  natural  that  people  who  do  not  believe  in  one 
true  God  will  believe  in  a  god  of  the  well,  a  god  of  this 
[122] 


THE  HAUNTED  WELL 

and  that,  and  countless  other  gods.  Before  I  got  into 
prison  I  also  believed  there  were  many  gods,  but  today 
I  consider  such  a  belief  exceedingly  foolish. 

As  I  recall  this  story,  I  am  greatly  moved  by  the 
love  of  the  father  for  the  son.  When  the  child  fell  into 
the  well,  mountains  of  people  gathered  at  the  spot,  but 
no  one  made  the  slightest  effort  to  rescue  him  for  fear 
of  the  ghost.  But  the  father  thought  only  of  the  dan- 
ger to  his  child,  and  went  down  into  the  darkness  and 
saved  him.  Such  a  heart  of  love  touches  me  very 
deeply,  as  I  think  of  the  joy  both  of  the  father  and  of 
the  son.  The  same  joy  is  in  my  heart  as  was  in  the 
child's  when  he  was  restored  to  his  father.  Through 
the  love  of  the  father  the  child  was  saved  from  the 
depths  of  the  old  well,  as  I  was  saved  from  the  depths 
of  my  sins.  No  earthly  father,  however,  can  save  his 
child  from  sin,  no  matter  how  much  he  may  desire  to 
do  so ;  no  matter  how  much  trouble  he  may  take.  This 
can  only  be  done  by  the  loving  hand  of  Christ,  who 
alone  can  give  imperishable  life.  For  God  so  loved  the 
world  tJiat  He  gave  His  only  begotten  Son,  tlmt  zvho- 
soever  beliez'cth  on  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life.  Because  of  these  words  I  believe  that 
for  every  sinner,  who  has  not  already  fallen  into  Hell, 
there  is  salvation. 


ri23] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XIII. 

ABOUT   REPENTANCE. 

June  22. 

I  was  reading  in  a  book  today  that  a  deathbed  re- 
pentance has  no  value  whatever.  Also  someone  said 
to  me  not  long  ago,  "Ishii  San,  your  repentance  has 
come  very  late.  It  would  have  been  well  had  you  re- 
pented sooner."  This  greatly  disturbed  me,  when  I 
heard  it  twice,  and  for  a  while  I  wondered  if  it  were 
really  true.  Without  doubt  I  had  been  a  notoriously 
bad  man  out  in  the  world ;  I  had  caused  infinite  trouble 
to  others  and  I  had  lived  an  utterly  selfish  life.  And 
now  when  I  have  done  all  the  harm  I  can  and  the  end 
is  near,  I  turn  to  God  and  beseech  Him  to  save  me 
from  my  past  sins.    Have  I  repented  too  late  ? 

Upon  further  thought,  however,  I  have  come  to  see 
that  there  are  two  kinds  of  deathbed  repentance,  and 
that  there  is  a  very  great  difference  between  them. 
Under  certain  circumstances  a  deathbed  repentance 
may  be  too  late,  but  it  need  not  always  be  so.  There 
are  those  who  have  heard  of  the  love  of  God  from 
childhood,  but  who  neither  believe  nor  practise  what 
they  hear.  They  put  God  out  of  their  minds  and  live 
entirely  for  themselves.  When  such  men  come  to  die, 
God  may  not  hear,  however  much  they  call  upon  Him. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  some  who  have  never 

heard  whether  there  be  a  true  God,  or  a  Christ  of  love; 

and  not  knowing,  they  sin.     But  if  these  repent  when 

they  hear  that  there  is  a  God  of  pity  who  yearns  for 

[124] 


ABOUT  REPENTANCE 

them  in  proportion  to  their  wrongdoin<^,  then  Christ, 
I  believe,  will  take  their  sins  upon  Himself,  and  for- 
give us  even  if  repentance  comes  only  as  we  die. 

/  say  unto  you,  that  likezmse  joy  shall  be  in  Heaven 
over  one  sinner  that  rcpcnteth,  more  tJian  over  ninety 
and  nine  just  persons  who  need  no  repentance.  To  be 
sure  I  have  repented  very  late,  but  I  could  not  have 
repented  at  all  if  I  had  never  heard  Christ's  teachings 
from  the  two  friends  who  visited  me.  Then  I  cer- 
tainly would  have  lost  my  soul,  with  no  chance  to 
retrieve  myself,  no  matter  with  what  gnashing  of  teeth 
I  had  repented.  I  am  grateful  indeed  for  the  leading 
which  brought  me  in  touch  with  the  merciful  hand  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

So  I  am  convinced  that  all  may  be  saved, — old  or 
young,  man  or  woman, — who  will  set  themselves  every 
day  and  every  hour  to  live  out  the  lessons  they  learn. 
And  I  do  not  believe  that  even  a  deathbed  repentance 
is  too  late. 


[125] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PEISON 

XIV. 

THE  FORTY-SEVEN    LOYAL   FREE  LANCES. 

When  I  first  got  into  prison  and  was  awaiting  my 
trial  I  asked  the  governor  to  give  me  work  to  do ;  but 
recently  I  have  given  it  up.  My  case  was  settled  on 
the  third  of  April,  and  the  end  may  come  tomorrow; 
so  I  want  to  spend  all  the  time  I  have  left,  in  learning 
about  God  and  goodness  and  the  true  way  of  man, 
I  cared  nothing  about  these  things  when  I  was  out  in 
the  world,  and  for  that  reason  was  but  a  demon  in 
human  form.  I  was,  however,  born  a  human  being, 
and  although  I  may  be  executed  tomorrow,  I  want  to 
die  knowing  at  least  what  I  can  about  the  teachings 
of  God,  and  the  true  path  of  man,  and  the  way  to  do 
justly.  So  I  am  spending  every  morning  studying  the 
Bible,  and  in  the  afternoon  I  read  other  books  which 
will  help  to  cultivate  my  mind. 

In  the  days  of  my  sinning,  when  I  did  not  have  a 
pin's  head  of  loyalty  or  filial  piety  or  justice  or  kind- 
ness in  me,  nevertheless  I  liked  to  hear  tales  of  loyalty 
and  filial  piety  and  justice  at  the  theatre  or  from  pro- 
fessional story-tellers.  This  is  a  very  curious  thing 
when  one  thinks  about  it.  One  would  suppose  that 
when  I  was  doing  evil  all  the  time  myself,  I  would 
enjoy  seeing  wickedness  acted  on  the  stage;  but  this 
was  not  at  all  the  case,  for  I  disliked  it  very  much. 
Even  now  I  cannot  understand  myself.  Mencius  said, 
"Man  is  by  nature  good,"  and  perhaps  it  is  true,  but 
I  do  not  know.  However,  be  that  as  it  may,  I  went 
[126] 


THE  FORTY-SEVEN  LOYAL  FREE  LANCES 

to  hear  these  things  merely  for  momentary  pleasure, 
and  not  at  all  to  improve  myself. 

Among  the  books  I  have  read  recently  that  have 
impressed  me  is  one  called  "The  Forty-Seven  Loyal 
Free  Lances."  The  centre  and  whole  point  of  the 
story  is  loyalty,  and  the  outline  is  as  f ollov^s : — 

Lord  Asano,  through  the  hatred  of  his  enemy,  Lord 
Kira,  was  condemned  to  death  and  obliged  to  commit 
suicide;  and  his  lands  and  castle  were  confiscated. 
Forty-seven  of  his  retainers  swore  to  avenge  the  death 
of  their  lord,  and  to  see  neither  wife  nor  child,  fathex 
nor  mother,  until  they  carried  out  their  revenge  and 
presented  Lord  Kira's  head  at  the  grave  of  their  dead 
master. 

They  endured  untold  privations  and  distresses,  but 
finally  fulfilled  their  duty.  They  then  gave  themselves 
up  to  the  authorities  and  were  handed  over  to  various 
feudal  lords  for  safe  custody.  They  were  condemned 
to  death  for  the  crime  of  killing  Lord  Kira,  and  exe- 
cuted. 

In  connection  with  this  story  is  an  incident  which 
has  a  bearing  on  religion.  According  to  the  law  of 
that  time  there  was  one  person  who  had  power  to  peti- 
tion the  Shogun  *  for  these  men's  lives.  That  man 
was  a  priest,  but  I  cannot  understand  the  kind  of  reli- 
gion he  had  when  he  did  not  make  use  of  his  power 
to  get  these  loyal  men  pardoned.  I  shall  tell  this  part 
of  the  story  and  then  express  my  thoughts  about  it. 

No  one  wanted  these  very  loyal  retainers  to  be  put 
to  death.    Even  the  Shogun's  Government  was  anxious 

•  In  feudal  days,  the  chief  executive  of  the  nation,  acting  on  behalf  of 
the  Emperor,  who  at  that  time  did  not  assume  direct  control  of  the  state. 

[127] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

to  save  them  if  possible,  and  many  eminent  people 
hoped  that  clemency  would  be  granted  to  the  men  who 
had  shown  such  exceptional  devotion  to  their  lord. 
It  was  rumoured  that  the  Shogun  himself  desired  to 
pardon  them,  and  the  people  leapt  for  joy  at  the  news, 
for  everyone  took  it  as  a  personal  matter. 

But  the  law  could  not  be  changed  and  its  processes 
ignored  on  account  of  merely  personal  feelings,  for  the 
world  must  be  governed.  So  the  men  were  condemned 
to  death,  and  the  Shogun  was  obliged  to  confirm  the 
verdict. 

There  was  one  hope,  however.  A  certain  priest  of 
imperial  lineage  at  Nikko  might  petition  the  Shogun, 
and  he  was  the  only  one  in  the  land  who  had  this  power. 

At  the  New  Year's  season  this  royal  priest  came  to 
Tokyo  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Shogun,  and  in  the  midst 
of  a  conversation  the  latter  very  significantly  remarked, 
"It  is  a  distressing  thing  to  govern  the  state.  I  suppose 
the  news  about  the  retainers  of  Lord  Asano  has  reached 
even  your  ears.  Such  loyalty  and  devotion  touches  me 
deeply  and  I  fain  would  save  them,  but  alas!  justice 
allows  no  way."  The  Shogun  in  this  way  suggested 
that  the  royal  priest  might  intercede.  The  priest,  how- 
ever, merely  said,  "I  sympathise  greatly  with  your  dis- 
tress," and  then  retired. 

When  the  Shogun's  wife  heard  this,  she  herself  sent 
a  messenger  to  the  priest,  and  asked  him  directly  to 
petition  for  the  lives  of  the  knights.  The  priest  sighed 
deeply.  "I  do  not  remember  ever  being  so  distressed 
in  all  my  life  as  when  the  Shogun  spoke  to  me  about 
these  men.  I  sympathise  most  deeply  with  him,  and 
being  a  priest,  I  also  desire  greatly  to  save  these  men 
[128] 


THE  FORTY-SEVEN  LOYAL  FREE  LANCES 

from  death.  But  among  these  forty  odd  men  are  some 
hotblooded  youths,  who,  if  their  lives  were  spared  now, 
might  in  the  future  do  something  to  stain  the  good 
reputation  they  have  already  made  for  themselves.  For 
this  reason  it  would  seem  more  in  accordance  with  the 
mercy  of  Amida  to  let  the  law  take  its  course.  There- 
fore, drinking  tears  as  I  do  so,  I  must  shut  my  eyes; 
both  for  the  sake  of  the  nation  and  for  the  men  them- 
selves." The  law  took  its  course  and  a  few  days  later 
the  loyal  retainers  were  put  to  death. 

I  want  to  say  now  what  I  think  about  the  royal 
priest's  refusal  to  petition  for  the  lives  of  these  men. 
I  fail  to  see  how  the  mercy  of  Amida  was  shown. 
When  this  royal  priest  by  a  word  might  have  spared 
their  lives,  and  yet  refused  to  do  so  for  the  sake  of  a 
remote  possibility  that  they  might  defile  their  names, — 
I  cannot  understand  how  he  could  say  he  was  being 
merciful.  This  may  be  the  way  of  Buddhism,  but  if 
it  is,  then,  even  though  it  be  the  religion  of  my  ances- 
tors, I  cannot  believe  so  merciless  a  thing.  I  could 
understand  the  story  if  the  positions  of  the  priest  and 
the  Shogun  were  reversed,  and  the  priest  had  begged 
the  Shogun  to  pardon  the  men.  But  when  the  Shogim 
made  the  request,  and  the  priest  refused  and  claimed 
that  by  so  doing  he  was  showing  forth  the  mercy  of 
Amida, — that  I  cannot  understand.  He  should  have 
given  them  a  chance  to  live  on  and  make  their  fame 
still  greater. 

But  it  may  be  said  by  some  who  do  not  understand 

the  true  heart  of  these  retainers,  that  they  probably 

would  have  gone  wrong  later  if  they  had  lived.    I  do 

not  believe  such  a  thing  would  have  been  possible, 

[129] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

Even  had  they  been  pardoned  they  would  not  have 
returned  to  their  famiHes  and  spent  the  remainder  of 
their  Hves  in  pleasure.  These  loyal  men  did  not  have 
such  cowardly  and  rotten  souls  as  that !  Had  they  been 
pardoned  I  believe  they  would  have  gone  at  once  to 
the  grave  of  their  dead  lord,  and  there  taken  their  own 
lives  and  followed  their  master  into  the  next  world. 
This  was,  I  believe,  their  intention  to  do,  as  soon  as 
they  had  accomplished  their  revenge.  What  a  praise- 
worthy end  it  would  have  been !  My  ignorant  mind 
cannot  find  words  to  describe  the  glory  of  it;  but  if 
we  can  imagine  the  fragrance  of  the  plum  added  to  the 
beauty  of  the  cherry  blossom,  we  shall  have  some  faint 
idea  of  the  loveliness  of  such  a  deed.  But  instead  of 
this,  they  were  put  to  death  as  criminals,  these  forty- 
seven  loyal  knights. 

Why  then  did  they  give  themselves  up  to  the  gov- 
ernment instead  of  taking  their  own  lives  when  their 
revenge  was  accomplished?  Some  may  say  that  they 
hoped  to  get  their  punishment  mitigated.  They  were 
not  cowards  of  that  kind.  Not  one,  not  even  half  a 
one  among  them  could  have  been  so  efifeminate  as  that ! 
Then  the  reason  why  they  did  not  take  their  own  lives 
was  because  it  would  have  caused  confusion  to  the 
state.  The  killing  of  Lord  Kira  was  an  act  of  ven- 
geance, and  as  such  was  a  deed  of  loyalty  worthy  of 
the  retainers  of  their  master;  but  it  was  also  a  crime 
against  the  laws  of  the  land.  It  was  but  right  that 
they  should  hand  themselves  over  to  the  government 
to  await  its  decision ;  and  in  so  doing  they  showed  the 
true  Japanese  spirit  in  a  manner  entirely  worthy  of 
them. 

[130] 


THE  FORTY-SEVEN  LOYAL  FREE  LANCES 

I  have  tried  to  show  here  that  there  is  a  very  great 
difference  between  the  mercy  of  Buddhism  and  that  of 
Christianity.  Now  I  want  to  say  something  about  what 
I  think  is  the  meaning  of  Christ's  mercy.  If  the  royal 
priest  had  been  a  Christian,  he  would  have  asked  on 
his  own  initiative  for  the  Hves  of  these  men,  and  not 
have  allowed  them  to  be  put  to  death.  Then,  of  their 
own  accord,  they  could  have  followed  their  master  to 
the  next  world,  and  have  left  a  still  more  glorious 
name  behind  them.  I  do  not  believe  that  when  Jesus 
gave  his  life  for  people  who  sinned,  he  was  concerned 
with  the  fear  that  they  might  fall  again  at  some  remote 
future  time.  He  could  not  think  so,  because  he  loved 
people  like  his  own  children,  and  could  not  condemn 
them  to  a  cruel  death  before  his  very  eyes. 

But  Christ  gives  us  not  only  physical  life,  but  also 
the  eternal  life  of  the  soul.  That  there  is  anywhere 
such  love  for  the  children  of  men  is  a  matter  for  deep 
thankfulness.  For  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He 
gave  His  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  helieveth 
on  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life. 


[ISl] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XV. 

THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM. 

June  24,  Monday. 

Miss  West  came  to  see  me  today  and  I  was  even 
more  pleased  than  usual  with  her  visit,  as  I  had  not 
seen  either  of  my  friends  for  some  time.  When  Miss 
Macdonald  came  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  May,  I  was 
ill  and  could  not  see  her.  A  few  days  ago  I  wrote 
begging  one  of  them  to  visit  me,  and  Miss  West  came 
in  response  to  my  letter.  She  asked  me  to  remember 
especially  the  words  of  the  twenty-third  Psalm,  and  in 
order  to  do  so  I  am  writing  them  down  rather  than 
merely  reading  them  over  a  number  of  times. 

The  Lord  is  my  shepherd; 
I  shall  not  want. 

He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures: 
He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters. 
He  restoreth  my  soul; 
He  leadeth  me  in  the  paths  of  righteousness 
For  His  name's  sake. 
Yea,  though  I  walk 

Through  the  valley  of  the  sJmdow  of  death 
I  will  fear  no  evil, 
For  thou  art  with  me; 
Thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me.. 
Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me 
In  the  presence  of  my  enemies: 
Thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil; 
[132] 


THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 

My  cup  runneth  over. 

Surely  goodness  and  mercy 

Shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life, 

And  I  will  dzvell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for  ever. 

These  words  correspond  so  closely  to  my  own  experi- 
ence that  I  write  them  with  deep  gratitude  in  my  heart. 
I  was  so  grateful  for  Miss  West's  visit  that  I 
prayed  after  she  left  me :  "Lord  Jesus,  I  thank  Thee 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  that  Thou  hast  answered 
all  the  prayers  I  have  ever  made  to  Thee.  In  the  com- 
ing days  when  enemies  attack  my  soul  from  all  quar- 
ters, lend  me  Thy  power  to  conquer  them  all.    Amen." 


[133] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

XVI. 

EARTHQUAKES. 

June  26. 

Last  night  about  eleven  o'clock  an  earthquake  oc- 
curred, the  most  severe  for  some  time.  The  prison  was 
badly  shaken,  being  a  wooden  structure  and  two  stories 
high.  It  reminded  me  of  the  great  earthquake  which 
occurred  in  Gifu  and  Aichi  provinces  in  1891,  when  I 
was  about  seventeen  years  of  age.  Never  in  all  my 
recollection  has  there  been  such  another  catastrophe. 
I  shall  describe  some  of  the  things  I  saw  at  that  time. 

A  little  south  of  Nagoya  at  Atsuta  was  a  weaving 
factory,  where  more  than  a  thousand  men  and  women 
were  employed,  who  went  back  and  forth  every  day  to 
their  work.  As  the  earthquake  occurred  about  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  just  after  the  day  and  night 
shifts  had  exchanged,  the  night  shift  escaped;  but  with 
the  exception  of  a  few  late  comers,  the  entire  day  shift 
were  instantly  killed.  The  scene  was  so  pitiful  I  could 
scarcely  bear  to  look  upon  it.  Bodies  were  crushed 
under  the  debris  of  brick  and  stone  of  which  the  fac- 
tory had  been  built ;  and  even  the  parents  and  relatives 
of  the  dead  could  not  identify  their  own  folk  except 
by  bits  of  clothing  found  here  and  there  among  the 
ruins. 

Two  or  three  days  later  I  went  to  the  city  of  Gifu, 

and  the  devastation  there  was  more  awful  than  tongue 

or  pen  can  describe.    The  stench  of  burning  bodies  was 

almost  more  than  I  could  bear.     Buildings  had  fallen, 

[134] 


EARTHQUAKES 

fires  had  broken  out,  and  the  whole  town  was  prac- 
tically destroyed.  Thousands  were  unable  to  escape, 
and  had  been  burned  alive. 

The  main  street  had  been  torn  asunder  and  a  great 
jagged  tear,  two  or  three  feet  wide,  had  been  made, 
through  which  dirty  water  was  running,  so  that  people 
could  not  get  across  the  road.  With  the  exception  of 
the  prison,  and  a  very  small  part  of  the  town,  every- 
thing was  burnt  to  the  ground. 

Adjoining  Nagoya  was  a  place  called  Kasamatsu 
where  everything,  including  the  police  station  and  the 
village  office,  was  destroyed,  and  the  whole  site  looked 
like  an  open  field.  People  had  tried  to  escape  and  had 
been  burned  to  death;  parents  were  left  and  children 
gone;  children  left  and  parents  gone;  in  some  cases 
whole  families  were  wiped  out.  It  was  indeed  a  dread- 
ful sight.  At  Ogaki  the  earthquake  occurred  at  the 
time  of  morning  prayers  at  one  of  the  temples.  The 
structure  fell  in  and  all  the  worshippers  were  killed. 
A  certain  hamlet  lay  between  two  mountains,  both  of 
which  caved  in  on  it.  The  only  thing  left  above  ground 
was  the  roof  of  the  temple,  and  all  else,  houses  and 
people  alike,  were  completely  submerged.  I  went  to  the 
village  of  Taketomi,  about  five  miles  from  Gifu  City, 
and  found  the  whole  place  turned  into  a  pond. 

The  damage  was  all  done  on  the  first  day  of  the 
earthquake,  but  for  a  month  smaller  shocks  were  felt 
every  day.  The  people  of  Nagoya  were  terrified,  and 
instead  of  returning  to  their  homes,  they  built  tempo- 
rary huts  in  the  bamboo  thickets  outside  the  city  and 
remained  in  refuge  there. 

After  this  experience  I  was  afraid  of  nothing  so 
[135] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

much  as  earthquakes;  and  this  fear  continued  until  I 
learned  to  know  God.  Through  His  power  I  am  not 
in  the  least  afraid  of  them  any  more.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  no  true  Christian  feels  anxiety  about  anything 
that  happens  from  without,  however  great  the  calamity 
may  be.  Christians  do  not  fear  even  death,  which  to 
ordinary  people  is  the  most  fearsome  thing  in  all  the 
world.  They  fear  only  God,  and  nothing  else  can  make 
them  afraid.  This  I  have  learned  from  my  own  experi- 
ence. 


[136] 


A  TALK  WITH  JAILORS  AND  POLICEMEN 

XVII. 

A  TALK  WITH  JAILORS  AND  POLICEMEN. 

I  am  reminded  here  of  another  earthquake  vhich 
occurred  while  I  was  in  Yokohama  prison.  One  day 
as  I  sat  in  my  cell  reading,  a  rather  severe  earthquake 
took  place.  It  was  unusually  long,  and  made  a  good 
deal  of  noise.  I  heard  the  sound  of  commotion  in  the 
other  cells,  which  showed  that  the  inmates  were 
alarmed.  I  scarcely  noticed  the  noise  myself,  and  kept 
on  quietly  reading.  The  warder  in  charge  made  his 
rounds  while  the  earthquake  was  going  on,  and  after- 
wards stopped  at  my  cell  and  said :  "Ishii  San,  are  you 
deaf?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  I  replied,  and  then  he  asked  me. 

"Did  you  know  there  was  an  earthquake  just  now?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  answered. 

"Then  how  was  it,"  he  asked  me,  "that  you  sat  quiet- 
ly reading  as  if  you  didn't  know  that  an  earthquake 
was  shaking  the  place?" 

I  answered,  "When  I  was  out  in  the  world  there  was 
nothing  I  feared  so  much  as  earthquakes.  Since  I  have 
come  to  believe  in  Chrsit  I  have  not  the  slightest  fear. 
Not  only  that,  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  any  outside 
thing.  This  is  due  not  to  the  power  of  my  own  will, 
but  to  the  power  of  Christ." 

"Then,"  said  the  warder,  "there  must  be  some  real 
power  in  Christianity.  How  do  you  get  admitted  to 
this  religion?    Can  you  get  in  by  paying  money?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  "You  only  need  to  believe  from  the 
[137] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

bottom  of  your  heart  in  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ  and 
you  can  get  in." 

He  went  on:  "Ishii  San,  how  long  have  you  be- 
Heved  in  Christ?"  I  told  him  that  it  was  after  I  was 
put  in  prison  and  received  books  from  my  two  friends 
who  visited  me  many  times. 

"Did  you  know  those  people  before  you  got  into 
prison?"  he  asked,  and  when  I  answered  "No,"  he  said: 

"Well,  of  course,  Tokyo  is  a  large  city  and  you  may 
find  people  there  who  will  send  books  to  persons  whom 
they  have  never  seen  before,  but  I  can  assure  you  I 
have  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  that  in  Yoko- 
hama." 

When  my  trial  in  Yokohama  was  over  I  was  sent 
back  to  Tokyo  prison  under  a  police  guard,  and  while 
I  was  waiting  in  the  police  station,  one  of  the  offi- 
cials asked  me  some  questions  about  Christianity.  I 
was  explaining  as  well  as  I  could,  when  another  police- 
man said  to  me :  "There  are  many  different  religions 
in  the  world,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  you  who  believe 
in  Christianity  do  not  much  care  what  happens  to  your 
lives." 

I  at  once  replied  to  this:  "No  Christian  holds  his 
life  lightly,  nor  throws  it  away  recklessly.  But  you 
must  keep  in  mind  that  I  am  a  man  under  sentence  of 
death  for  crimes  against  the  law,  and  my  life  is  not 
mine  to  give  or  keep.  I  car.  not  complain  therefore 
even  if  my  life  is  taken  today.  But  I  do  not  fear  to 
die,  for  my  soul  shall  not  be  destroyed.  But  this  is 
true  not  only  of  me  but  of  all  Christians,  that  they  do 
not  fear,  even  if  they  are  ill  or  endure  distress  or  suffer 
greatly.  They  quietly  leave  everything  in  the  hands  of 
[138] 


A  TALK  WITH  JAILORS  AND  POLICEMEN 

God,  and  even  while  they  suffer,  they  rejoice  and  wait 
patiently  until  they  recover.  On  the  other  hand,  those 
who  are  not  Christians  make  a  great  fuss  about  any 
little  illness,  and  immediately  call  for  the  doctor  or 
medicine  or  temple  prayers.  And  when  the  doctor 
comes  his  diagnosis  is  wrong  and  another  doctor  must 
be  called,  and  so  they  fret  and  worry.  And  when  they 
recover  they  exaggerate  the  suffering  they  have  en- 
dured. There  are  many  such  people  in  the  world. 
Through  such  and  many  other  differences  in  people 
the  power  of  Christ  is  revealed.  When  Paul  was  being 
sent  to  Rome,  a  great  storm  occurred  while  he  was  on 
board  ship,  and  for  several  weeks  they  were  tossed 
about,  and  in  great  danger.  With  the  exception  of 
Paul  himself,  they  all  lost  courage  and  became  like 
dead  men.  Paul  was  not  afraid  because  Christ  was 
with  him.  When  I  tell  you  that  Christians  fear  noth- 
ing but  God,  I  want  you  to  understand  that  I  am  not 
just  pretending,  for  it  is  really  true.  Here  are  Christ's 
own  unshakeable  words:  And  be  not  afraid  of  them 
who  kill  the  body,  but  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul;  but 
rather  fear  Him  who  is  able  to  destroy  both  body  and 
soul  in  hell. 

As  I  was  speaking  in  this  way,  one  of  the  policemen 
standing  by,  said:  "Perhaps  it  is  true  then,  that  the 
teachings  of  Christ  are  the  foundation  for  the  path  of 
men." 

During  the  hour  and  a  half  I  was  in  the  police  station 
a  large  number  of  policemen  and  detectives  gathered 
round  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say. 
July  3- 

Mr.  Suzuki,  my  lawyer,  came  to  see  me  today  and 
[139] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

enquired  very  kindly  after  me.  He  brought  some 
writing  paper  and  food  to  me,  which  I  received  after 
he  left.  I  wanted  to  write  a  letter  of  thanks  to  him, 
but  somehow  or  other  I  did  not  know  how  to  express 
my  feelings.  Instead  of  being  disgusted  with  a  worth- 
less fellow  like  myself  he  has  come  to  see  me,  time 
after  time,  and  whenever  he  comes,  he  brings  me  food. 
His  visits  alone  would  abundantly  reveal  his  thoughts 
for  me,  but  he  does  so  much  besides.  I  cannot  ex- 
press my  appreciation  in  words,  I  can  only  weep  tears 
of  gratitude  and  thank  God. 


[140] 


THE  PRISON  BATH 

XVIII. 

THE  PRISON    BATH. 

July  4. 

While  I  was  in  the  bath  today  I  understood  in  a  new 
way  how  God's  mercy  and  love  come  to  us. 

In  this  prison  there  are  very  good  bath  facilities 
for  the  inmates,  who  are  allowed  to  bathe  twice  a  week. 
Several  scores  of  tubs  are  arranged  very  conveniently 
and  are  filled  with  cold  water.  From  a  steam  boiler 
some  distance  away,  pipes  are  laid  to  the  baths,  and 
the  water  is  heated  when  the  steam  is  let  in  by  turning 
a  tap.  Now  no  matter  how  much  steam  may  be  in 
the  pipes,  the  water  remains  cold  unless  the  man  in  the 
bath  turns  on  the  tap  which  lets  the  steam  in. 

I  saw  that  this  is  exactly  the  way  in  which  God's 
salvation  works.  Through  the  steam  of  God's  love, 
our  cold  and  unaffectionate  hearts  are  warmed,  but  we 
ourselves  must  open  the  tap  to  let  the  love  in.  No 
matter  how  abundant  God's  love  may  be,  we  shall  re- 
main cold  forever  if  we  keep  the  tap  closed. 


[141] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XIX. 

ABOUT  JUDGES. 

July  7. 

Today  as  I  was  reading  in  the  twenty-third  chapter 
of  Luke  about  Jesus'  trial  and  death,  I  started  thinking 
about  judges,  and  had  reason  to  thank  God  for  some  of 
the  blessings  that  have  come  to  me.  When  I  was  out 
in  the  world  living  a  selfish  and  wicked  life,  I  con- 
sidered judges  and  procurators,  policemen  and  prison 
officials  my  greatest  enemies.  This  is  the  feeling  of 
everyone  who  commits  crime.  In  those  days  I  did 
not  care  how  much  harm  I  did  to  others.  I  did  not 
even  think  I  was  doing  wrong,  and  only  dreaded  getting 
caught.  I  hated  the  procurators  who  prosecuted  me, 
and  the  judges  who  sentenced  me,  I  hated  the  prison 
officials  who  disciplined  me,  although  I  was  constantly 
breaking  rules.  This  is  always  the  way  with  criminals. 
But  when  once  I  repented  of  my  sins,  and  believed  the 
teachings  of  Christ,  my  enemies  became  my  benefac- 
tors. This  was  all  due  to  the  change  in  my  own  heart, 
for  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  judges  and  jailors  remained 
the  same.  This  illustrates  the  difference  between  be- 
lieving and  not  believing  in  Christ.  Jesus  had  no  hate 
in  his  heart  for  his  enemies,  and  no  follower  of  His 
can  hate  another  person. 

The  following  experience  will  show  that  my  feelings 

really  did  change  towards  those  I  formerly  considered 

my  enemies.    It  is  an  unheard  of  thing  for  a  procurator 

who  urges  the  judge  to  pronounce  a  death  sentence  on 

[142] 


ABOUT  JUDGES 

a  criminal,  to  visit  the  condemned  man  afterwards  in 
prison.  And  yet  this  is  what  Mr.  Ohira,  the  public 
prosecutor  at  my  appeal  trial,  actually  did.  Had  he 
not  been  perfectly  sure  that  I  had  no  resentment 
towards  him,  he  would  not  have  dreamed  of  coming  to 
see  me.  This  shows,  I  think,  that  my  heart  has  en- 
tirely changed  towards  those  whom  otherwise  I  should 
have  hated. 


[143] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XX. 

RECOLLECTIONS. 

July  8. 

Today  I  recalled  some  of  the  good  and  evil  in  my 
past  life,  and  I  want  to  put  down  my  thoughts.  It  is 
twenty-seven  or  twenty-eight  years  ago  since  I  began 
to  go  in  bad  ways,  and  I  cannot  even  now  forget  some 
of  those  early  crimes  I  committed  and  the  way  I  caused 
trouble  to  others.  When  I  think  back  on  these  things  I 
am  greatly  distressed.  However,  once  in  a  while  I  did 
try  to  do  some  small  kindnesses  and  as  I  recall  them 
now  I  am  greatly  comforted. 

In  thinking  over  the  life  that  men  lead  together  in 
this  world,  and  the  various  kinds  of  work  they  do,  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  greatest  happiness  and  pleasure 
come  from  bringing  wicked  men  to  repentance,  and 
guiding  them  to  the  holy  hand  of  God.  The  joy  of  the 
repentant  one  also  is  very  great.  The  guidance  of  my 
two  friends  has  given  me  a  gladness  which  a  million  yen 
of  money  could  not  do.  Money  disappears  with  the 
using,  and  its  use  is  limited  to  this  world.  It  is  abso- 
lutely worthless  when  the  soul  is  separated  from  the 
body. 

It  is  different  with  the  gifts  of  God.  They  do  not  de- 
crease as  we  use  them,  but  they  grow  as  we  spend  them. 
Their  use  is  not  limited  to  this  world,  for  they  can  be 
used  endlessly.  What  wonderful  gifts  they  are !  The 
gifts  that  have  been  given  me  I  can  always  use,  what- 
ever the  time  and  whatever  the  place.    As  it  is  summer 


MR.    KEISHO   FUJII 

Buddliist  I'litst  and  Head  Chaplain  of  Tokyo  Prison 


RECOLLECTIONS 

now  the  days  are  long,  and  I  am  sure  the  other  prison- 
ers find  the  time  hanging  heavily  on  their  hands ;  they 
probably  also  feel  distressed  by  the  heat.  It  is  not  so 
with  me.  No  matter  how  long  the  day  is,  it  seems 
short  to  me,  and  I  am  always  glad  of  a  little  more  time. 
I  do  not  mind  the  heat  at  all.  This  is  one  of  God's  gra- 
cious gifts  to  me. 

The  vice-governor  of  the  prison  came  again  to  see 
me  today,  and  as  usual  enquired  very  kindly  for  me.  I 
am  so  grateful  for  all  the  kindness  I  receive  that  I 
want  to  express  what  is  in  my  mind,  but  I  find  that  the 
words  will  not  come.  They  stick  in  my  throat  and  I 
can  only  weep  tears  of  gratitude.  I  cannot  write  one- 
tenth  of  what  I  feel.  But  what  I  do  say  comes  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart. 


[14-51 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

XXI. 

THE    KINDNESS    OF    OFFICIALS. 

July  9. 

Today  the  chief  warder  came  to  my  cell  and  brought 
with  him  another  official  newly  come  to  the  prison. 
Every  day  different  warders  come  to  see  me,  and  they 
could  not  treat  me  more  kindly  if  I  were  their  own 
child. 

I  am  pondering  over  this  very  earnestly.  When 
some  unexpected  sorrow  comes  to  one's  family,  people 
are  usually  willing  to  help,  and  will  do  a  good  deal 
for  a  time.  But  even  one's  own  relations  often  grow 
weary,  and  cease  to  be  kind  if  the  trouble  is  long  drawn 
out. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  officials  in  this  prison,  for 
the  past  two  or  three  years,  have  been  unfailingly  kind 
to  me,  a  man  who  has  done  nothing  but  harm  in  the 
world,  and  who  is  a  condemned  criminal.  I  cannot 
believe  that  such  kindness  would  have  been  possible 
had  I  remained  the  worthless  fellow  that  I  was  before 
I  received  the  grace  of  God.  All  this  has  come  to  me 
because  I  am  daily  guarded  by  the  loving  Christ,  and 
I  can  only  thank  Him  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 

I  have  spoken  of  this  mercy  that  has  followed  me 
for  long  days  and  months,  because  I  am  hoping  that 
some  time  people  out  in  the  world  may  read  what  I 
have  written,  and  will  realise  how  even  an  abandoned 
criminal  like  myself,  whose  very  name  brought  terror 
to  all  who  heard  it,  received  untold  kindness  from  the 
[146] 


THE  KINDNESS  OF  OFFICIALS 

prison  officials  because  he  had  entered  into  God's  sal- 
vation. 

I  wish  everyone  to  know  that  I  spend  my  days  in 
happiness  because  of  the  love  of  God  which  passes  our 
power  to  measure.  Christ's  love  really  does  mean  that 
there  is  eternal  salvation  for  even  the  most  abandoned, 
if  he  repents  and  believes. 


[147] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

XXII. 

THE  PITIFUL  LITTLE  ANTS. 

July  12. 

I  was  outside  today  getting  my  exercise  as  usual, 
when  I  noticed  something  that  made  me  see  in  a  new 
way  that  there  is  power  in  God.  I  saw  four  or  five 
ants  seeking  dihgently  for  food.  I  have  heard  that 
ants  are  very  shrewd  insects :  they  lay  by  their  winter 
food  in  summer  and  then  maintain  themselves  under- 
ground during  the  v»^inter.  I  have  no  doubt  they  are 
clever  little  beasts,  but  as  we  look  at  them  with  the 
eyes  of  men  there  is  something  very  pitiful  about  them. 
As  they  search  for  their  food  they  have  not  sense 
enough  to  know  whether  the  place  they  crawl  about 
in  is  safe  for  them  or  not,  and  they  are  often  trodden 
under  foot.  They  know  how  to  seek  for  food,  but 
they  cannot  protect  themselves  from  danger. 

And  so  I  thought  about  ourselves  in  the  same  way. 
Above,  God  is  watching  us  day  and  night  without  ceas- 
ing; here  we  are  below,  taken  up  with  the  pleasures  of 
the  body,  with  eye  and  heart  lost  in  the  greed  of  the 
world,  and  not  knowing  the  places  where  our  souls  may 
be  crushed  under  foot.  Surely  from  God's  stand- 
point we  are  pitiful  creatures.  This  I  have  come  to 
understand. 

Just  as  the  little  ants  would  be  protected  if  some 
kind  person  would  pick  them  up,  and  set  them  away  in 
a  safe  place,  so  we  are  protected  by  Christ  if  we  cling 
to  Him. 

[148] 


THE  ^VRITING  OF  AN  UNEDUCATED  MAN 
XXIII. 

THE   WRITING  OF  AN    UNEDUCATED   MAN. 

July  13. 

Today  a  judge,  together  with  the  chief  warder,  vis- 
ited me  in  my  cell.  "I  hear  you  are  busy  writing,"  said 
the  judge.  "What  is  it  about?"  I  told  him  that  since 
I  had  got  into  prison  I  had  learned  to  know  the  love 
of  Christ,  and  that  I  was  writing  about  this  and  the 
kindness  I  was  receiving  from  the  officials.  "But,  as 
you  see,  I  am  an  uneducated  man,  and  I  cannot  express 
all  the  things  that  are  in  my  heart.  I  can  write  only 
very  simply." 

"Ah,  but  that's  what  gives  flavour  to  writing,"  said 
the  judge.  "When  a  literary  man  writes,  he  embellishes 
and  ornaments  until  the  flavour  is  all  gone.  The  simple 
style  of  an  uneducated  man  is  much  the  best,  and  I 
want  you  to  continue  to  write  in  your  own  way."  * 

I  told  the  chief  warder  who  had  come  with  the  judge 
that  I  was  very  anxious  to  write  and  thank  Mr.  Suzuki, 
my  lawyer,  for  all  his  kindness  and  the  trouble  and  ex- 
pense I  had  cost  him;  but  that  I  did  not  know  how  to 
express  myself  properly.  The  chief  warder  said,  "Mr. 
Suzuki  has  been  indeed  extraordinarily  kind,  and  he  is 

•  The  chaplain  tells  the  following  story:  "One  day  when  I  went  to  see 
Ishii  I  found  him  sitting  up  straight  and  studying  very  diligently  with 
a  dictionarj-;  not  seeming  in  the  kast  aware  that  his  life  might  be  cut 
off  at  any  moment.  'You  seem  to  think,'  I  said  to  him,  'that  it  is  worth 
while  even  now  to  read  and  study,  and  I  should  like  to  know  just  what 
your   purpose    is.' 

"He  replied,  'For  the  very  reason  that  I  have  not  studied  until  now, 
I  have  not  understood  the  path  men  ought  to  walk,  and  I  have  wandered 
far  away.  I  regret  this  so  much  that  even  now  I  want  to  know  enough 
to   be   able  at  least  to   let  people   know   the  cause   of   my   mistakes.'  " 

[149] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

a  man  to  be  greatly  admired.  But  everyone  is  very  sym- 
pathetic with  you  because  you  have  reformed,  and  the 
only  thanks  necessary  is  your  good  behaviour."  With- 
out knowing  it,  I  found  myself  shedding  tears. 


1160] 


"THY  STAFF  IT  COMFORTS  ME^ 

XXIV. 
''thy  staff  it  comforts  me/' 

July  14. 

Today  is  Sunday  and  I  was  reading  the  Psalms  when 
I  came  across  this  sentence,  Thy  staff  it  comforts  me. 
I  put  my  mind  to  this  verse  to  think  it  out.  As  we 
are  born  and  enter  into  the  life  of  the  world,  the  one 
indispensable  thing  is  the  staff  of  the  love  of  Christ, 
if  we  would  follow  God  and  walk  the  path  of  men. 
So  far  as  the  way  of  God  is  concerned,  we  are  really 
like  blind  people,  even  though  our  outward  eyes  may  be 
open.  Without  this  staff  of  Christ's  love  we  cannot  I 
reach  our  destination  in  safety.  J 

Several  years  ago  I  saw  a  blind  dog  searching  about 
for  food.  Now  a  blind  man  would  have  had  a  staff 
with  him,  and  could  have  got  about  with  safety,  but 
this  poor  blind  dog,  being  but  a  beast,  had  nothing 
to  guide  him.  He  was  constantly  knocking  against 
something  or  falling  into  the  moat,  and  it  was  pitiful 
to  see  the  poor  brute.  As  I  did  not  know  God  at  that 
time  I  did  not  retain  the  incident  long  in  my  mind,  but 
recalling  it  now,  I  wonder  if  the  poor  dog  has  not  long 
since  met  with  some  violent  death. 

We  shall  never  reach  our  destination  of  heaven  un- 
less guided  by  the  staff  of  God's  love.  Like  the  poor 
blind  dog,  we  shall  fall  by  the  wayside,  and  our  souls 
shall  forever  be  destroyed. 


[151] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 
XXV. 

THE   HEART   OF   A   CHRISTIAN. 

An  unbeliever  cannot  understand  the  true  heart  of  a 
Christian,  for  he  takes  his  own  heart  as  the  standard 
when  he  judges  others.  On  the  other  hand,  a  Chris- 
tian can  thoroughly  understand  another  person's  heart, 
for  he  can  discern  things  through  the  power  of  Christ. 
There  is  a  saying  of  Christ's  which  is  very  applicable  to 
non-Christians :  For  John  came  neither  eating  nor 
drinking,  and  they  say.  He  hath  a  devil.  The  Son  of 
man  came  eating  and  drinking,  and  they  say.  Behold 
a  man,  gluttonous,  and  a  winebibber,  a  friend  of  publi- 
cans and  sinners.  But  wisdom  is  justified  of  her  chil- 
dren. To  my  mind,  these  words  show  a  deep  knowl- 
edge of  the  real  heart  of  the  unbeliever.  My  own 
case  illustrates  them  very  well. 

When,  through  Christianity,  I  learned  that  there  is 
both  power  and  love  in  God,  I  repented  of  all  my  sins, 
confessed  them  before  God,  and  told  the  whole  truth  at 
the  court  in  order  to  make  some  reparation  for  my 
sins.  But  no  one  who  was  not  a  Christian  believed 
in  my  sincerity.  "Ishii  is  crazy,"  people  said,  or  "He 
does  not  speak  soberly."  This  corresponds  to  the 
words  of  Christ  which  I  have  quoted. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  I  had  not  disclosed  the  facts 
and  had  obstinately  refused  even  in  the  face  of  evi- 
dence to  admit  that  I  was  guilty,  people  would  have 
said,  "What  an  obstinate  fellow  Ishii  is!  What  an 
[152] 


THE  HEART  OF  A  CHRISTIAN 

unheard-of  villain !"  They  surely  would  have  called  me 
a  monstrous  fellow.  All  of  which  goes  to  show  that 
an  unbeliever  cannot  understand  the  heart  of  a  Chris- 
tian. 

July  IS- 

Today  the  Festival  of  the  Dead  is  being  celebrated  in 
all  the  provinces  of  Japan,  and  their  spirits  are  being 
worshipped  everywhere.  Grown-up  people  and  chil- 
dren alike  are  spending  three  days  in  doing  honour  to 
their  ancestors. 

Until  I  was  twelve  or  thirteen  years  of  age,  I  had 
no  wrong  in  my  heart  and  spent  my  days  happily  at 
home.  Then  I  always  looked  forward  to  both  New 
Year's  Day  and  the  Festival  of  the  Dead,  and  used  to 
count  off  the  days  on  my  fingers  until  they  came.  I 
celebrated  those  days  with  great  delight. 

By  the  time  I  was  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  old, 
however,  wickedness  was  already  lodged  in  my  heart, 
and  I  no  longer  found  any  pleasure  in  these  festivals. 
There  were  many  reasons  for  this :  first  because  my 
heart  was  bad,  second  because  my  parents  rebuked  me 
and  I  felt  uncomfortable,  and  third  because  I  was  al- 
ways expecting  to  be  found  out.  I  was  frightened  at 
everything.  I  was  afraid  of  everyone  who  looked  at 
me.  I  kept  wondering  whether  this  person  were  a  de- 
tective or  that  one  a  policeman,  and  whether  they  were 
coming  to  arrest  me ;  so  that  I  did  not  have  a  moment's 
peace  of  mind.  There  was  no  longer  any  joy  in  my 
heart.  I  would  use  the  money  I  stole  to  buy  grand 
clothes  for  myself,  thinking  I  would  be  happy  when 
[153] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

people  admired  me,  but  never  a  bit  of  real  happiness  did 
I  feel. 

But  having  received  the  love  of  Christ  since  get- 
ting into  prison  I  am  joyous  from  the  depths  of  my 
heart,  not  only  on  these  festival  days,  but  every  day, 
and  all  this  I  attribute  to  the  mercy  of  God. 

July  1 8. 

Today  the  head  chaplain  came  to  my  cell  and  made 
enquiries  about  the  state  of  my  mind.  He  knows  that 
I  am  a  believer  in  Christ,  but  he  still  comes  once  every 
week  or  two  to  talk  to  me.  Being  a  Buddhist  himself, 
you  would  naturally  think  he  would  talk  about  Buddh- 
ism; but  never  once  has  he  done  so.  He  has  never 
suggested  that  it  would  be  well  for  me  to  believe  in 
Buddhism.  He  simply  encourages  me  to  believe  more 
deeply  in  Christianity.  Not  only  that,  but  he  has  lent 
me  Christian  books  to  read.  I  have  a  very  great  admi- 
ration for  this  chaplain.  Now,  for  the  sake  of  his 
own  cause,  an  ordinary  man  would  likely  speak  evil 
of  Christianity,  and  try  to  persuade  me  to  study  Buddh- 
ism, but  this  chaplain  does  nothing  of  the  kind.  I 
have  a  deep  respect  for  him. 

During  our  conversation  today  he  told  me  that  he 
had  been  enquiring  of  the  other  men  condemned  to 
death  with  what  feelings  they  spend  tlieir  days.  They 
told  him  that  every  morning  when  the  dawn  comes 
they  wonder  if  today  will  bring  the  end;  and  when  an 
ofificial  appears  they  think  that  he  has  come  to  take 
them  out  to  death.  They  wait  in  agony  till  nine  o'clock 
has  passed,  and  then  if  no  summons  comes,  they  know 
they  have  escaped  death  for  one  more  day.  But  the 
[154] 


THE  HEART  OF  A  CHRISTIAN 

next  morning  brings  the  same  fear  with  it,  and  the  days 
pass  one  by  one,  in  distress  and  agony. 

He  then  turned  to  me  and  said:  "For  most  people 
the  day  dawns  in  happiness;  but  for  these  poor  fel- 
lows who  have  sinned,  the  morning  brings  nothing  but 
fear  and  despair.  I  feel  so  sorry  for  them.  What  are 
your  feelings  as  you  face  these  things?" 

"I  too  am  very  sorry  for  these  men,"  I  replied,  "but 
I  do  not  feel  at  all  as  they  do.  This  I  owe  to  the  power 
of  Christ." 

"Then  do  you  want  to  die  as  soon  as  possible?"  he 
asked  me,  but  I  answered,  "No." 

"What  then  do  you  think  about  it  all?"  he  asked. 

I  replied,  "During  these  days  I  am  not  giving  any 
thought  whatever  to  the  life  or  death  of  the  body; 
the  problem  does  not  so  much  as  enter  my  head.  I  have 
resolved  to  accept  the  will  of  Heaven,  and  I  have  left 
everything  in  God's  hands.  There  is  not  the  slightest 
distress  in  my  mind.  When  morning  breaks  I  welcome 
the  day  with  gladness." 

"It  is  well  to  have  your  mind  so  firmly  fixed,"  said 
the  chaplain,  "but  tell  me  how  you  came  to  have  such 
faith."  I  told  him  I  had  read  many  books,  and  he 
said,  "But  the  various  ideals  of  men  enter  so  largely 
into  books  that  it  is  difficult  to  make  them  a  foundation 
for  faith." 

Upon  hearing  this,  I  reached  out  for  my  New  Testa- 
ment which  was  near  by,  and  said  to  him,  "But  in  this 
book  the  words  of  Christ  are  written,  and  through  them 
I  know  that  He  is  here  in  this  very  cell.  Although  I 
cannot  see  Him  with  my  outward  eye,  I  talk  with  Him 
every  day." 

[155] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

"It  is  good  to  have  such  faith,"  said  the  chaplain. 
"I  want  you  to  enter  in  more  and  more  deeply."* 

Since  this  conversation  I  cannot  but  think  of  those 
poor  fellows  who,  like  myself,  are  facing  death,  but  who 
are  buried  under  the  agony  of  the  thought  of  it.  Here 
am  I,  on  the  other  hand,  with  no  distress  of  any  kind 
whatever,  and  I  spend  the  days  with  gladness  because 
of  Christ's  love  and  mercy.  It  is  indeed  terrible  to  be 
so  distressed  on  account  of  the  life  of  the  body,  and  I 
pity  them  from  the  depths  of  my  soul.  Oh!  that  I 
might  see  those  men  and  tell  them,  that  they  also  may 
receive  the  love  of  Christ  and  be  at  peace!  But  I 
cannot  do  this,  and  I  can  only  ask  that  my  two  friends 
when  they  read  what  I  have  written,  will  understand  my 
desire,  and  will  themselves  lead  these  men  to  Christ. 
But  I  can  pray  for  them. 

*  The  chaplain  thoroughly  understood  Ishii's  genuine  repentance,  but  he 
asked  him  the  following  question  one  day  to  test  him:  "Now  that  you  have 
repented  and  are  no  longer  the  Ishii  you  were,  but  are  an  entirely 
different  person,  I  am  not  the  only  one  who  would  like  to  see  you  get 
another  chance.  What  do  you  feel  about  it?  Do  you  want  another 
chance  ?" 

"No,  no!  Such  a  thought  has  never  come  to  me.  I  have  oniv  one 
desire  now  and  that  is  to  go  to  God.  I  long  for  that  alone  both  day  and 
night.  I  ought  to  accept  all  the  responsibility  that  comes  to  me  on  account 
of  the  laws  of  the  land:  but  God  will  not  forsake  me  when  the  times  comes, 
because  of  Christ's  Cross;  and  although  my  body  will  perish,  my  soul 
shall  enter  into  the  mercy  of  pardon." 


[156] 


A  JUDGE  AND  CHIEF  WARDER 

XXVI. 

A  JUDGE  AND  CHIEF  WARDER. 

July  24. 

A  judge,  together  with  one  of  the  chief  warders, 
came  to  my  cell  to  visit  me  today.  The  judge  intro- 
duced himself  and  told  me  that  although  he  had  had 
no  connection  with  my  trial,  he  had  had  with  that 
of  Komori.  He  had  come  to  the  prison  on  business 
and  wanted  to  talk  with  me. 

"You  have  become  a  Christian,  I  hear,"  he  said. 
"Does  someone  come  to  teach  you?"  I  said  that  Miss 
West  and  Miss  Macdonald  came  at  times  and  that  they 
sent  me  books.  I  told  him  I  did  not  understand  the 
Bible  very  well  until  I  read  Christ's  prayer  for  his 
enemies  on  the  Cross :  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do.  "There  can  be  no  greater  love 
than  this,"  I  said,  "that  a  man  should  pray  for  his 
enemies  at  the  very  moment  when  they  are  taking  his 
life." 

"An  ordinary  man  in  your  circumstances,"  remarked 
the  judge,  "would  have  fallen  already  into  the  depths 
of  despair,  but  through  God's  power  you  seem  con- 
tented with  your  lot,  and  it  is  well.  Do  not  forget  your 
faith,  but  go  on  to  even  better  things."  He  then  left 
me  and  I  was  much  moved  by  his  kind  words. 

Since  coming  to  prison  a  number  of  such  men  have 
come  to  see  me  and  I  am  very  grateful  for  all  their 
kindness,  which  is  all  due  to  the  mercy  of  Christ's 
love. 

[157] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

The  official  who  came  with  the  judge  today,  Mr. 
Wada  by  name,  was  the  chief  warder  of  Chiba  prison  in 
1905  when  I  was  there,  and  he  was  very  kind  to  me. 
When  I  left  the  prison  I  resolved  on  that  account  to 
reform  and  live  a  new  life;  and  I  felt  that  if  I  did  not, 
I  could  never  look  Mr.  Wada  in  the  face  again.  And 
now  years  after,  when  I  am  put  into  Tokyo  prison,  I 
find  to  my  astonishment  that  Mr.  Wada  is  an  official 
here.  I  was  both  surprised  and  ashamed  to  see  him; 
for  I  felt  that  anyone  who  had  repaid  his  kindness  as  I 
have  done  is  really  not  a  human  being  at  all.  "He  is  a 
beast  who  forgets  favours."  It  is  but  natural  to  hate  a 
man  who  forgets  past  kindnesses,  but  Mr.  Wada  has 
not  changed  in  the  least  towards  me.  He  treats  me 
in  exactly  the  same  way  as  he  did  in  Chiba  prison,  so 
that  I  scarcely  feel  deprived  of  my  freedom.  I  am  so 
ashamed  that  I  should  like  to  crawl  into  a  hole  if  I  could 
find  one ;  and  yet  this  kindness  and  consideration  is  all 
due  to  Christ's  mercy,  and  I  can  only  thank  God  over 
and  over  again  for  all  His  gifts  to  me. 

The  manuscript  ends  here,  his  last  writing  being  on 
July  twenty- fourth,   19 18. 


[1581 


FROM  CAROLINE  MACDONALD'S  JOURNAL 


NOTES  TAKEN  FROM  CAROLINE 
MACDONALD'S  JOURNAL. 

August  8,  19 18. 

I  saw  him  just  two  weeks  after  his  writing  was 
finished,  and  as  it  happened,  for  the  last  time.  The 
day  of  doom  is  not  publicly  fixed  in  Japan,  and  neither 
he  nor  I  knew  that  it  would  be  the  last  time ;  but  we 
both  knew  it  might  be,  and  we  faced  the  issue.  "I  do 
not  know  when  it  will  come,"  he  said,  "perhaps  to- 
morrow, perhaps  the  day  after ;  but  I  have  finished  my 
writing  and  my  task  is  done.  I  am  just  waiting  now 
to  lay  down  this  body  of  sin  and  go  to  Him."  His 
face,  marred  and  sin-stained  as  it  was,  was  lit  up  with 
a  radiance  not  of  this  world  as  he  spoke  of  his  going. 

What  did  we  talk  about?  What  can  one  say  to  a 
man  who  is  going  to  be  hanged  tomorrow,  or  the  next 
day,  or  the  day  after?  I  read  to  him  parts  of  the  hun- 
dred-and-sixteenth  psalm,  words  penned  centuries  ago ; 
but  as  I  stood  there  in  a  tiny  cubby  hole  and  talked  to 
him  across  a  passage  way  and  through  a  wire  screen,  it 
seemed  impossible  to  believe  that  they  were  not  written 
for  the  very  thing  we  faced  there  in  the  prison  house. 
"I  love  the  Lord  because  he  Iwareth  my  voice  and  my 
supplication. — The  cords  of  death  compassed  me,  the 
[159] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

pains  of  Sheol  gat  hold  upon  me;  I  found  trouble  and 
sorrow.  Then  called  I  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord: 
O  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  deliver  my  soul. — The  Lord 
preserveth  the  foolish''  (the  stupid,  the  dull,  as  the 
Japanese  version  has  it)  ;  and  as  I  read  those  words  he 
interrupted  to  say,  "Yes,  that's  exactly  like  me!  Fool- 
ish, dull,  stupid,  and  he  has  preserved  me."     I  read  on. 

"I  zvas  brought  low  and  he  saved  me.  Return  unto 
thy  rest,  0  my  soul,  for  the  Lord  hath  dealt  boun- 
tifidly  ivith  thee.'''  I  looked  at  him,  and  his  eyes  were 
glowing  with  joy.  What  had  God  done  to  this  man, 
who  for  all  I  knew  as  I  stood  there  might  be  hanged  to- 
morrow, that  he  should  think  that  God  had  dealt  boun- 
tifully with  him?  The  psalm  itself  answered,  "He  Jmth 
delivered  my  soul  from  death,  mine  eyes  from  tears, 
and  my  feet  from  falling." 

Then  came  these  words,  "Precious  in  the  sight  of  the 
Lord  is  the  death  of  his  saints."  "Precious  is  the  death 
of  his  saints."  I  stopped  reading  and  looked  across  at 
him.  Nothing  was  left  him  now  but  death,  whereby 
to  glorify  God :  and  there  suddenly  flashed  into  my 
mind  and  on  to  my  tongue,  other  words,  penned  cen- 
turies later  than  the  psalmist's  and  again  centuries  re- 
moved from  us.  "No  man  liveth  unto  himself,  and 
no  man  dieth  unto  hhnself.  For  whether  we  live,  we 
live  unto  the  Lord:  whetlier  we  die,  we  die  unto  tlu 
Lord:  whether  we  live,  therefore,  or  die,  zve  are  the 
Lord's."  I  said  to  him,  "You  will  remember  that?"  I 
did  not  say  when  he  should  remember.  There  was  no 
need  to  do  that.  There  was  but  one  spot  for  him  on 
the  horizon  of  this  world's  future.  He  lowered  his 
head  for  a  moment  and  closed  his  eyes,  and  when  he 
[160] 


riie   7    Chine; 
top  to  bottom; 

1  TVio  T    to  *  This    character    always 
i     J  ne  i^ie  -^  j^^  g^.^^  ^^^  ^  tombstone 

2  Ishi 


Ishii 


Kjchi  'Tokichi's 

Grave 

lis   inscrii)tioii    was   writ 
Temple  Priest 


I^ove 
Literally  God  Love  Is 

This  was  written  by  the  Prison  Official  who 
first  suggested  translating  the  book  anil 
who  took  Miss  MacDonald  to  find  the  grave. 
The  Tcniplf  Priest  standing  in  the  back- 
ground. 


THK  GRAVE  OF  TOKICHI  ISHII  IN  THK      POTTER'S  FIELD' 
IN    THE   TEMPLE    OF   THE    KING    OF    HEAVEN    TENNOJI 


FROM  CAROLINE  MACDONALD'S  JOURNAL 

looked  up,  there  shone  in  his  face  that  radiant  Hght 
that  was  the  wonder  of  prison  officials  and  others  who 
saw  him,  and  he  said,  "I  understand.  Yes,  I  shall  re- 
member." 

August  1 8,  19 1 8. 

Ten  days  later,  the  following  official  letter  came  to 
me  from  the  prison  chaplain,  and  I  knew  he  had  re- 
membered. 

"This  morning,  the  seventeenth  of  August,  at  nine 
o'clock,  Tokichi  Ishii  was  executed  at  Tokyo  prison. 
He  faced  death  rejoicing  greatly  in  the  grace  of  God, 
and  with  steadiness  and  quietness  of  heart.  His  last 
message  was  that  you  be  told  of  today's  event,  and  I 
am  writing  in  his  stead  to  let  you  know  of  his  going 
and  to  thank  you  for  your  many  kindnesses  to  him. 
He  has  left  his  books  and  manuscripts  for  you  and  you 
will  receive  them  at  the  prison  office.  His  last  words, 
which  are  in  the  form  of  a  poem,  he  asked  me  to  send 
to  you.    They  are  as  follows : 

'My  name  is  defiled, 
My  body  dies  in  prison, 
But  my  soul  purified 
Today  returns  to  the  City  of  God.' " 


[161] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PKISON 


So  with  the  Lord :  He  takes  and  He  refuses, 
Finds  him  ambassadors  whom  men  deny. 
Wise  men  nor  mighty  for  His  saints  he  chooses; 
No,  such  as  John,  or  Gideon,  or  I. 


[162] 


FROM  CAROLINE  MACDONALD'S  JOURNAL 


The  story  of  his  passing  was  told  us  afterwards  by 
the  Buddhist  chaplain  who  was  with  him. 

"Many  who  die  on  the  scafifold  face  death  with  a  firm 
resolution  to  win  a  good  name  for  themselves  at  the 
end,  and  not  to  be  a  laughing  stock  to  the  world.  But 
Ishii's  fortitude  was  far  different  from  that.  He  had 
not  the  slightest  appearance  of  desiring  to  win  a  good 
name  or  of  merely  enduring  the  inevitable.  With 
humility  and  great  earnestness,  he  seemed  to  see  noth- 
ing but  the  glory  of  the  heavenly  world  to  which  he  was 
returning,  when  he  had  cast  off  the  heavy  load  of  his 
sins ;  just  as  one  turns  with  great  yearning  to  his  own 
native  home.  Among  the  officials  who  stood  by  and 
saw  the  clear  colour  of  his  face  and  the  courage  with 
which  he  bore  himself,  there  was  no  one  but  involun- 
tarily paid  him  respect  and  honour.  On  the  very 
scaffold,  when  in  a  moment  his  life  was  to  disappear 
like  a  dewdrop,  he  uttered  those  last  words  of  his :  'My 
soul,  purified,  today  returns  to  the  City  of  God !'  *' 


[163] 


A  GENTLEMAN  IN  PRISON 

A  few  days  later,  I  was  called  to  the  prison  office, 
and  was  told  that  something  remained  to  be  given  to 
me.  A  document  was  produced,  to  which  I  was  asked 
to  affix  my  name  and  thumbprint,  just  beside  Ishii's 
name  and  thumbprint,  where  he  had  signed  his  will, 
and  left  to  me  all  his  worldly  possessions.  There  was 
then  handed  over  to  me  all  that  he  had  died  possessed 
of, — one  sen,  a  single  copper  coin,  worth  a  farthing.  It 
was  my  first  and  only  legacy,  and  I  shall  keep  it  as  a 
reminder  of  the  days  that  are  gone,  and  as  a  token  of 
the  "glory  that  shall  follow." 


THE   END. 


[164] 


Date  Due 

Mai3'52 

^ 

